


be the thing that buries me

by MistressEast



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Blood, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Illnesses, Killing Game Was A Virtual Reality Simulation (Dangan Ronpa), M/M, Maki's POV, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Temporary Character Death, both ships are technically pre-relationship but we know what's up, edited to add my cover art bc i actually like it, just go with it, maki and kokichi could be really good friends and i will die on this hill!!, making up new killing game rules for fun and profit, oumasai does not get together but they ARE in love, takes place after the second trial, the game room doesnt have a pool table i was thinking of the first game lol, this whole fic was just an excuse to make my two faves be friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26683858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressEast/pseuds/MistressEast
Summary: Disgusted, Maki braces her elbows on her knees. “So you and whoever are both fucked, then.”“Not yet.”Maki snaps her focus to Kokichi. “What do you mean.”Kokichi shrugs. He’d look unbothered if it weren’t for the undercurrent of tension Maki can sense in every movement. “We’re only fucked if they know. And they don’t. I just have to keep it a secret until it’s too late.” He grins brightly. “That’s why I need your help.”
Relationships: Harukawa Maki & Oma Kokichi, Harukawa Maki/Momota Kaito, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 298
Collections: best of the best: danganronpa edition





	be the thing that buries me

**Author's Note:**

> so i've had this sitting in my docs almost finished for...goodness, nearly a year now, i think. i do still like it and Danganronpa a lot, but i got majorly sidetracked by first Promare and then P5 and this sort of got lost in the shuffle. but i opened it up again a few days ago and was struck by the inspiration to finish! if you're familiar with my work, this is a bit of a departure from my usual fare, but i'm very proud of it and i hope you enjoy it!

It’s not like Maki was sleeping, but the sharp rapping on her door near midnight still sends a flash of irritation down her spine.

Glaring at the door, she sets her book aside as the irritation quickly gives way to suspicion. There are only a few people who visit her room at all, and neither of them would bother her this late unless something was wrong. Or Kaito had some sort of scheme. Neither possibility is very appealing.

Maki approaches the door and grasps the handle, cursing the lack of peepholes in this godforsaken dorm for the thousandth time. “Who is it?” she asks, voice low but strong enough to carry through the wood.

“It’s a surprise!”

The irritation returns, hot in her gut, and her eye twitches. “Get lost.”

“Aw, don’t be like that!” Kokichi chirps from the other side of the door. “We’re all supposed to be friends, right?”

“We are not friends,” Maki says tightly.

“Whaaat? How can you say that?”

“Easily.”

“I’m hurt.”

“Don’t think I can’t kill you from in here.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, but I’m really not here to do anything naughty! I swear!”

Maki rolls her eyes and releases the doorknob, turning to stalk back into her room. Let that idiot whine himself hoarse outside for all she cares.

“Maki.” Kokichi’s voice is barely audible through the door, and it’s lacking its usual sugar-sweet coating. That’s the only reason Maki pauses. “I need to talk to you.”

Maki clenches her fists at her sides. After a second she blows out a sigh, cursing the empathy she never truly abandoned.

She strides back to the door and pulls it open, nearly slamming it back into place on instinct at the sight of Kokichi’s beaming face.

“Aw, I always knew you had a soft spot for me, Maki,” he sings, breezing past Maki and strolling casually into her room, hands folded behind his head.

Jaw clenched, Maki closes the door. “Say that again and I’ll show you just how wrong you are.”

“So scary.” Kokichi stops in the middle of the room and spins to face her, arms falling to his sides. “I come in peace, truly.”

“You’re full of shit.” Maki paces out of the entryway, maintaining a careful distance between herself and Kokichi, much as one would avoid the strike zone of a venomous snake.

“Maybe, maybe not. I guess you’ll just have to hear me out.” He smiles with a lot of teeth and Maki regards him critically. He’s a little more ruffled than usual, not that he ever looks very put-together, but now his scarf is looser, a bit crooked. The longer strands of hair that usually stick wildly in all directions are now pulled back in a half ponytail and he’s barefoot. Casual is a weird look on Kokichi.

“What do you want?” Maki snaps

Some of the teeth disappear but the smile stays. “A favor.”

“A favor?” Maki repeats tonelessly.

“A big favor, if I’m being honest, which I am. A really big favor.” More teeth go away. The result is grim and a little lopsided. “I need your help.”

Maki stares at him coldly. “What makes you think I’d ever help you?”

Kokichi’s glittering gaze doesn’t waver. “Oh, this isn’t about me. It’s about everyone else.”

Rage swirls inside her, sudden and consuming. Her fingers twitch toward her thigh, for a weapon that isn’t there, and she strides toward Kokichi, focus shifting into something violent. “What did you do, you little maniac—”

Kokichi stumbles backward, holding his hands out in defense. “Nothing, nothing, I haven’t done anything—”

Maki catches him by the collar and jerks him forward, nearly lifting him off his feet, hissing right in his face: “If you came here to threaten me—”

“I didn’t!” Kokichi’s still smiling, like he was the last time Maki attacked him, but again it seems performative, false. “No threats! I swear!”

Maki narrows her eyes, searching his wide purple gaze. She only finds sincerity, but that’s what Kokichi is good at, after all. Acting. “No tricks, Ouma.”

“No tricks.” He tilts his head back slightly, looking at the ceiling. “As much as I wish this was all a trick, unfortunately I’m not that lucky.”

Maki furrows her brows, releasing Kokichi with a small shove, just to keep their relationship clear. “What are you going on about?”

Kokichi glances at her, expression unreadable. He reaches into his pocket and Maki tenses, but whatever he pulls out is small enough to fit in his closed fist, so it’s probably not a weapon. “Tell me, do you recognize these?” He uncurls his fingers, offering his palm to Maki.

Suspicious, Maki leans forward enough to get a look. Sitting in Kokichi’s hand are several curved white petals, each about an inch long, with faded red centers.

Maki’s eyes go wide and she can’t stop how her jaw drops.

“So you do know them. I figured you probably would, Miss Ultimate Assassin.” Kokichi smiles blithely, tucking the petals back into his pocket. “Familiar with all the horrific ways humans can die.”

“There are few more horrific than that.” Maki eyes Kokichi warily. “So you’re—”

“Yup!” Kokichi drops onto Maki’s bed, kicking his legs out childishly. “And it’s a shame, too. Things were finally getting interesting in the game.”

Maki scowls. She fails to see how what happened to Ryoma and Kirumi qualifies as _interesting_.

“Ugh, it’s so frustrating!” Kokichi continues. “I never even really got to play!”

“You seem to have accepted that you’re going to die,” Maki observes, crossing her arms. “Have you told—”

“That’s what I’m here to see you about, Maki!”

Maki bristles at being interrupted again before the implication crashes over her like a cold waterfall. _Surely_ not—

“And don’t worry,” Kokichi smiles up at her. “It’s not you.”

As unlikely as the possibility was, Maki still feels a wave of relief. “So what are you here for?”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” Kokichi hums, tilting his head from side to side. “You should probably take a seat.”

Maki frowns at him, but he just smiles without speaking until she heaves a sigh and pulls out the desk chair, sitting begrudgingly.

“Okay!” Kokichi starts cheerfully. “So, I’m dying, fact established. And when I realized it, I wondered: hey! What happens if someone in the game just gets sick and dies all by themselves?” He holds up a finger like he’s lecturing and Maki rolls her eyes. “A mystery indeed! So I called Monokuma—”

“Wait, you just _called_ him?” Maki interjects.

“Yeah. He’ll come if you ask, you know,” Kokichi says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Anyway, don’t interrupt, this is important. So I called Monokuma and asked. He said he usually tried to avoid letting students die from non-killing-game-related causes, because that would be boring, but if someone really did just die from some illness without any funny business, he wouldn’t even bother holding a trial. He said there’d be no point, because there’s no culprit.” Kokichi sits back, bracing his arms behind himself. “I was a little disappointed—”

“Surprise, surprise,” Maki mutters.

“Because it would be funny to leave everyone in chaos. Even if I couldn’t win the game, I wanted to be a part of it somehow! But I decided that was for the best. Everyone panicking might be fun to watch, but I’d be dead, and it would be lame if you all accused someone innocent and got killed.” Kokichi purses his lips, eyes on the ceiling. “Boring.”

Maki watches him carefully. “So what’s the problem? Just wait and die.”

Kokichi tenses. It’s almost unnoticeable, but to Maki it’s impossible to miss. “That was my plan, but my chat with Monokuma wasn’t over.” Kokichi crosses his legs. “He knew why I was asking—they really know everything, don’t they? I was being pretty careful too. He knew and he told me my situation was different.”

“Different?”

“Hanahaki isn’t a regular disease.” Kokichi’s volume dips slightly on the word, like he doesn’t want to say it. Maki can’t really blame him. Just the sound of it makes her shift uneasily. “You can’t get it on your own. Its very nature is...collaborative.”

Maki’s blood runs cold. “You don’t—”

“It’s complicated. Monokuma said he’d never dealt with this before, so he just made up a rule, just like that.” Kokichi laughs dryly as Maki stares at him in horror. Kokichi meets her eyes. His mouth is smiling but his gaze is blank. “Philosophers have been debating the trolley problem for decades. The mere act of observing makes you a participant, so it goes. So the solution is to never see it in the first place.”

Maki grits her teeth. “What are you saying.” She knows what he’s saying.

“Monokuma decided that as long as the other party doesn’t know what’s going on, they can’t be held accountable. Someone could trick someone else into committing murder for them and the one who pulled the trigger would be counted guilty, but in this case, nothing is actively being done. They didn’t choose to be fallen in love with, but, once they know, it gets tricky.”

“People can’t choose who they love.”

“Believe me, sister, I know. And I told him that.” Kokichi’s eyes skitter away for a second, his smile drooping. “I told him.” He hitches his smile back up and grins at Maki. “But a lot of love _is_ choice, you know? And the rest is just chemicals. Monokuma said, if someone _really_ cared, they could fake it enough to trick the disease.”

A vision of vines creeping over blood-stained lips flashes through Maki’s head. “Bullshit.”

“Tell Monokuma that. Maybe you’ll have better luck than I did.”

Disgusted, Maki braces her elbows on her knees. “So you and whoever are both fucked, then.”

“Not yet.”

Maki snaps her focus to Kokichi. “What do you mean.”

Kokichi shrugs. He’d look unbothered if it weren’t for the undercurrent of tension Maki can sense in every movement. “We’re only fucked if they know. And they don’t. I just have to keep it a secret until it’s too late.” He grins brightly. “That’s why I need your help.”

Maki leans back. “How can I help you with this?”

“You’re good at secrets, yeah?”

Maki doesn’t answer, just glowers.

“Well—” Kokichi gestures vaguely at himself. “ _This_ has to stay a secret. And I can’t do it alone.”

“Just kill yourself.” It may sound harsh, but it seems the safest solution. “Before whoever can find out.”

“I thought of that!” Kokichi straightens up, looking far too cheerful for the subject matter at hand. “But then there’d be a class trial, and you _know_ how stupid everyone is. What if they think it was some convoluted murder and accuse someone innocent? I couldn’t think of anything that would be obvious enough, short of just calling everyone into one place and doing it in front of them. But what if I fail and just end up a vegetable or something? Then I’m double-fucked. And even if you knew and told everyone it was a suicide, how do we know they’d believe you? Half of them still want to lock you up. I thought about attacking Monokuma and getting him to do it, but he knows everything, so he might predict I’d try something like that—”

“Okay, okay—” Maki interrupts his rambling. “So you can’t kill yourself. I still don’t see why you need my help to keep this a secret. Just don’t tell anyone.”

Kokichi levels a thoughtful look at her. “If the person in question was anyone else, I’d probably be able to manage by myself, but I’m in a delicate situation. I’m going to start getting worse soon, and it’ll be harder to hide the petals. And if he even suspects something is going on—well—” Kokichi smiles ruefully. “You know how Shuichi is.”

A beat of silence passes between them. Maki holds very still, breath caught in her chest.

At length, Kokichi quirks an eyebrow. “Surprised?”

“No.” Now that the knowledge is in her head, she realizes she really isn’t. Several oddities suddenly snap into place, and while the thought of Kokichi feeling genuine human emotion is still absurd, the fact that he’s in love with Shuichi is undeniable. “You always said he was your favorite.”

“I’ll grace you with some advice,” Kokichi stage-whispers. “Never start flirting with someone as a joke. It won’t stay a joke.”

Maki rolls her eyes again, but the reality of the situation is clear to her now. “The one person in the whole group who can’t afford to find out is the only person who would be able to.” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger anxiously. “And you can’t tell him.”

“Would you mind risking his life like that?”

“Would you?”

Kokichi holds Maki’s stare unblinkingly. “You think so lowly of me, Maki Roll. Why would I be here if I was willing to risk Shuichi’s life?”

“You can’t blame me for being skeptical. You’ve shown no hesitation to throw the rest of us under the bus.”

“All part of the game,” Kokichi responds airily. “And the game would end completely without Shuichi anyway. He’s the only thing keeping the rest of you morons alive. I couldn’t take him away from you for such a stupid reason.”

Maki shakes her head, tuning out most of Kokichi’s babble. “This is really…. He’s put you in a situation where you’re going to die and you can’t turn to your one hope of salvation without potentially damning them as well.”

Kokichi hums in agreement. “You must admit, it’s...elegant.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“It’s efficient. If I’m gonna flaunt the rules by dying of something other than murder, I may as well suffer as much as possible first.”

Maki glares at him. “You’re taking this all very well.”

Kokichi shrugs. “I already checked wallowing in despair off my to-do list. The next item was coming to see you.”

The mental image of Kokichi crying or otherwise engaging in any sort of genuine display of emotion doesn’t compute in Maki’s brain so she abandons the attempt. “So you need me to help you hide your condition and keep Shuichi from catching on until you die.”

“Bingo!”

“I still don’t understand why it has to be me.”

“Come on, Maki, you know you’re the only one smart enough and good enough at lying to help me pull this off. Kaito can’t keep a secret for shit, Miu can’t lie for shit, Gonta is too nice, Rantaro and Kirumi are both dead. Do I really have to list all the reasons everyone would completely fail at this?”

Maki rubs her temple. “You’re really trying to save him, aren’t you?”

“Like I said—”

“And everyone else. You’re really trying not to take anyone else down with you. I’m just a little shocked.”

“Hey, I may be in favor of the killing game, but this is my problem. I did this to myself, and I always take responsibility for my mistakes.”

When Maki doesn’t say anything, Kokichi clasps his hands in front of himself, eyes shining. “Oh please, Maki?” he begs. “Please help me save everyone’s worthless lives? Pleeease? Oh, do you want me on my knees?” Before Maki can react, Kokichi slides off the bed to kneel on the floor at her feet. “I’ll do anything, you know. I’ll kiss your feet, I’ll clean your room, I’ll kill another student if you want me too. Actually—” he taps his chin. “That might not be a bad idea. There’s no one in particular I want dead, but if you want me to, I’ll kill someone and set up a whole convoluted scheme to lead Shuichi right to me, then I’ll be dead and—”

“Stop,” Maki snaps. “Don’t kill anyone, don’t do any of that.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“Nothing, I—” Maki takes a deep breath. “I’ll help you. This is to save everyone else. And besides, it’s not like I’m...entirely unsympathetic.”

Kokichi blinks before his face splits into a wide grin. He moves like he’s about to hug Maki and Maki quickly dodges the attempt, standing up and pacing a few steps away. Kokichi lands awkwardly against the chair and glances over his shoulder. “Thank you, Maki,” he says, unfazed and, as far as Maki can tell, sincere.

Maki rolls her eyes one last time. “Okay,” she says briskly, crossing her arms. “What’s the plan?”

* * *

It isn’t as involved as Maki feared it would be, at least at first. She’s working far more closely with Kokichi than she ever wanted to, but she can compartmentalize her distaste for the sake of the others. Essentially, her job boils down to keeping an eye on Kokichi in case he has an episode while around other people. They have lies planned in case someone catches sight of the petals.

Initially, Maki questioned Kokichi’s insistence on keeping the nature of his illness a secret. The only danger lay in Shuichi finding out he was the cause, correct? But Kokichi asserted, probably correctly, that once he knew Kokichi had hanahaki, it wouldn’t take long for him to deduce the whole truth. Shuichi isn’t a vain person, but he wouldn’t shy away from the truth, and Maki had to admit the possibility of him figuring it out from only a few clues was high. In fact, now that she’s actively observing Kokichi, she’s not sure how she missed it in the first place.

Kokichi doesn’t change his normal behavior, since that would just look suspicious, and Maki realizes for the first time just how much attention he pays Shuichi. From the moment Shuichi enters the same room, Kokichi’s whole world seems to narrow down to him. Whatever Kokichi was doing becomes inconsequential in favor of bothering Shuichi. He seeks Shuichi’s focus with single-minded determination, willing to say or do practically anything to get it while simultaneously managing to come off as flighty and disinterested.

Maki has to admit, it’s a masterful display of manipulation.

“So this all started as a joke?” she asks skeptically a few nights later.

Kokichi twirls his pool cue in one hand, humming thoughtfully. “It’s hard to say. I didn’t mean to single out Shuichi so much, he just seemed fun to tease. Then after the first class trial, I got a pretty good idea of who he was, and before I knew it, I really wanted him to pay attention to me. Then I started coughing and it was too late to realize my feelings had changed.”

“How very honest of you.” Maki leans down to line up her shot. “I never expected you to be so blunt about your feelings.” She pockets three balls with a series of dull clacks.

“I’m always blunt!” Kokichi protests. “People just don’t wanna hear what I have to say.”

“Because it’s usually bullshit.”

Kokichi smiles and hops up on the side of the table to reach the angle he wants. He lines up his cue. “Anyway, we’re partners in crime now, Maki. If I can’t be honest with you, who can I be honest with? We’re kind of like our own mini secret organization!”

“Please don’t say that.”

Kokichi just grins before deliberately sinking the cue ball.

Things around the school are mostly quiet, everyone seemingly shaken by the second trial. The Monokuma family’s meddlings are minimal. Maki constantly fears another time-limit, but the animatronic bears appear too wrapped up in their own internal drama to heckle them outside of the regular announcements. Monokuma mentioned a few times that their next motive was still under development but refused to elaborate, sounding harried. Kiyo keeps trying to convince everyone to participate in some weird ritual, but nobody’s really in the mood to commune with the dead.

The general mood is one of exhaustion, but everyone tries their best to keep their spirits up. For Maki, that means allowing the others to slowly grow closer, at least the ones who are interested. Kaito and Shuichi are already hesitantly classified as friends. Tsumugi becomes a tolerable presence, along with Tenko. And while she wouldn’t say she’s friendly with Kokichi, she’s starting to understand him a little better.

He’s obnoxious and arrogant but also intensely aware of his own limitations. He acts ignorant and childish when it suits him, but he usually has a better grasp on what’s going on than anyone else in the room. He can read people really well, and he mostly uses that power to irritate more efficiently. After he stops pretending Maki’s profession bothers him, he asks constant questions out of what seems to be genuine curiosity and has no qualms joking about all manner of distasteful topics. Despite his explanation, Maki still has a hard time figuring out why someone like Kokichi, devious and manipulative, would be interested in someone like Shuichi, who is far milder and less ambitious.

But after a few days of watching their interactions, she sees a pattern begin to emerge. Shuichi seems to flip between taking Kokichi’s lies far too seriously and pegging his true intentions with unwavering accuracy, which seems to please Kokichi far more than the students who distrust everything or believe everything. Shuichi always claimed to her not to know what was going on Kokichi’s head, but he clearly handles Kokichi better than any of the rest of them. Perhaps the reason he’s so perplexed by the inner workings of Kokichi’s mind lies in the fact that he can’t imagine that Kokichi does most things for his sole benefit.

“Why do you like him so much?” Maki asks, sliding a hip blade back into its holster.

Kokichi swings his legs childishly atop the storage crate he’s sitting on and giggles. “What’s not to like?”

They’re in Maki’s lab, one of the only places they can talk alone without arousing suspicion, since the other students still try to avoid the large room filled with weapons and possibly an irate assassin. Maki isn’t keen to be seen hanging around Kokichi, lest someone think they’re up to something, or, even worse, friends.

“He just doesn’t seem like your type.”

“Wow! I didn’t know you were also the Ultimate Love Guru, Maki!”

She certainly isn’t, but she’s good at reading people, and she assumes that counts for something.

Kokichi continues before Maki can respond: “What do you think my type is, then?”

Maki sets the knife aside and considers the question. “Someone gullible who will do whatever you say.”

Kokichi waves his hand. “I have an organization full of people like that, and, believe me, it gets old.” He laughs. “That’s a lie, though. I never get tired of bossing people around.”

“Then, someone who shares your delusional ambitions. Someone mean like you.”

“What, you think I should date myself?” Kokichi scoffs. “While I am a total catch, I don’t think I could handle another one of me. I’m just too amazing!”

Maki suspects there’s a kernel of truth in there somewhere, but she doesn’t want to dwell on it. She pries open a crate that seems to be full of throwing stars and Kokichi hops off his box to come peer over her shoulder in wide-eyed interest.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she says, smacking his hand away when he reaches for one. “Why do you like Shuichi?”

Kokichi pouts and pulls away, rubbing his hand theatrically. “Can you ask the wind why it blows? Or the stars why they shine?”

“No, but I can ask you why you like Shuichi.”

Sighing, Kokichi wanders over to the display of guns mounted on the wall, back to Maki. “It’s hard to explain, okay? I’m a teenager in love!” His voice cracks on the dramatic declaration and he clears his throat. “Things don’t always make sense.”

“Then make sense of them.” Maki sticks a hand in her pocket and pulls out a lozenge. “Here.” She doesn’t wait for Kokichi to turn around before tossing it to him.

Kokichi spins just in time to catch it with both hands and grins toothily at her. “Shuichi is just... _interesting_ ,” he says, unwrapping the lozenge and popping it in his mouth. “I’ve never met anyone like him.”

“So he’s an oddity.”

“I wouldn’t pay to see him in a circus, if that’s what you mean.” Kokichi sucks contemplatively for a moment. “He’s easy to trick, but he’s really smart, so it’s fun to see what he’ll believe. If he was a little less trusting, it’d probably be boring—like you. You don’t believe anything I say, even the true stuff, so it’s pointless to lie to you.” He laces his fingers behind his head. “Spending time with Shuichi is like a game, and I love games.”

Personally, Maki thinks that translates to Kokichi wanting someone who’s fun to tease but still willing to call him on his bullshit, and that makes sense. Isn’t that what everyone wants in a relationship?

“Maki!”

They both jump at the sound of a loud voice just outside the door. Eyes wide, they stare at each other, not making a sound.

“Maki, are you in there?” Kaito calls again. “I want to respect your privacy but I need to talk to you so I’m coming in anyway!”

Maki gestures for Kokichi to hide and he vaults over a high table to duck behind a stack of crates just as the door swings open. Maki snatches a throwing star and just holds it, hoping to look menacing enough to keep Kaito’s attention from wandering.

Kaito strides into the room, beaming and wearing his jacket incorrectly, as always. “I knew you were in here! Listen, you gotta come check out this thing Miu built—”

“Fine, let’s go,” Maki says quickly, dropping the star and stalking past him.

He blinks but rallies quickly. “Hell yeah, Maki Roll, that’s the kind of enthusiasm I’m looking for!”

“Whatever, let’s just go.”

When Kaito catches up to her in the hall, he sticks to her side, probably to keep her from running off, but the proximity makes her heart pound for reasons entirely unrelated to the close call they just had.

Feeling as though she has a pretty good handle on Kokichi, at least enough to work with, Maki turns her attention to Shuichi. Reconnaissance is the most important part of every mission. As far as she can tell, Shuichi has no clue as to Kokichi’s true feelings. Things that may seem outwardly flirtatious to anyone else (persistent touching, suggestive comments, the ease with which Kokichi sits himself in Shuichi’s lap on occasion) are carefully obfuscated behind a veneer of teasing and scattered behavior. It’s nearly impossible to tell when Kokichi is being serious and easy to believe he never actually is. As smart as Shuichi is, he’s a little emotionally blind and Maki isn’t surprised that he seems to barely tolerate Kokichi. Even if the truth is obvious to her now, Maki doesn’t think she’d be able to see it if she wasn’t aware of the whole situation.

The more she observes Shuichi, however, the more she suspects that Shuichi doesn’t _just_ tolerate Kokichi. Shuichi is a pretty nice guy, too nice sometimes, in Maki’s opinion, and he gets along pretty well with everyone. Kokichi is the only one he ever seems to have real conflict with, so the others reasonably assume that means he doesn’t like Kokichi very much, but Maki wonders if that’s the case.

She watches Shuichi smile and retreat into himself when someone does something he doesn’t like, unwilling to cause strife within the group. He’s not a pushover, he just knows when to pick his battles. With Kokichi, however, he’s different. He’s simultaneously indulgent and impatient. He allows Kokichi to drag him into wild arguments and schemes but he gets angrier with Kokichi than he gets with anyone else. As much as she actually likes Shuichi, she’s always felt that there’s something about him that she’s missing. Watching him with Kokichi, she considers the idea that she’s seeing a glimpse of that vague, unknown thing.

Kokichi seems convinced that his death is a foregone conclusion, and Maki doesn’t have enough experience to refute him, but she wonders.

They don’t have to enact any of their plans for a solid week. Maki supposes she should be grateful for the time, since it gave her the opportunity to gather information, but she never thought their alliance would even last that long. She assumed either Monokuma would start something or she’d kill Kokichi in an episode of extreme frustration, but neither happened. Indeed, the whole Monokuma family is still suspiciously quiet that day at breakfast, as is Kokichi, uncharacteristically.

He still heckles the entire table and responds snidely to everything Miu and Keebo say, but Maki is irritated to realize she can read the tension behind his eyes. He doesn’t speak unless spoken to and barely touches his food. When he squeezes his eyes shut, Maki makes a show of gathering her and Kaito’s empty plates and stacking them loudly.

“Oh, thanks, Maki!” Kaito grins.

Maki just stands and heads for the kitchen, sliding a subtle look at Kokichi, who is holding a hand to his mouth and leaning back to stay out of Shuichi’s line of sight. He can’t speak, so if someone asks him what’s wrong, he’ll only draw more attention with his silence. She needs to give him an opportunity to leave without attracting attention.

The dishes shatter loudly when she drops them, cutting through the buzz of conversation. Chunks of porcelain bounce into the foliage carpeting the floor. Immediately, the sound of chairs scraping on tile erupts behind her.

“Whoa, what happened, Maki? Are you okay?” Kaito asks.

“My hand slipped,” she says dispassionately, kneeling to begin collecting the shards.

“Careful—” a hand on her wrist stops her and she looks up to see Shuichi crouching beside her, looking worried. “It’s sharp. Let’s use a broom or something.”

“I’ll get it!” Tenko shouts, dashing into the kitchen.

Maki looks around and finds nearly everyone crowded beside her, Kokichi noticeably missing.

“You feelin’ okay, Maki? That was a pretty big fumble.” Kaito puts a hand on her head.

She scowls and knocks him away as she stands. “I told you, my hand slipped.”

He just laughs, unperturbed. “I guess even the super cool assassin makes mistakes sometimes!”

“Whatever.”

Shuichi watches them with a nervous smile until Tenko runs back in with a hand broom and he takes it from her, diligently sweeping up the broken china. No one seemed to notice anything amiss.

After everyone clears off to do their own thing for the day, Maki heads to her lab. Predictably, Kokichi is waiting for her, lounging on a crate. He grins when she enters.

“Nice job!”

“Let me see,” Maki demands.

Without missing a beat, Kokichi holds out a hand and Maki approaches to see about half a dozen petals in his palm. The red centers have spread, creeping toward the edges of the petals. They’ll continue to overtake the white until the petals come out completely crimson. Once you reach that point, it’s too late. By her estimation, Kokichi has another week. Perhaps a week and a half if he doesn’t push it.

“I think it’s time I stop hanging around the others so much,” Kokichi says grimly, tucking the petals away. “The coughing is getting more frequent, and I can’t always tell when it’s gonna happen. We’ll have to come up with an excuse in case people start asking about me.”

“There’s no reason not to just say you’re sick. If we claim it’s contagious, that should deter the others from coming around.”

“You’re so smart, Maki!” Kokichi commends her. “Since everyone dislikes me for _some_ reason, they probably won’t bother checking on me. And I probably don’t have enough time left for anyone to get suspicious.” He blinks balefully at her. “Can I count on you to take care of me in my convalescence?”

It sounds horrible, but Maki supposes she doesn’t have a choice. “As long as you don’t annoy me too much.”

“No promises!”

Kokichi doesn’t just immediately isolate himself in his dorm. He attends dinner that night and breakfast the next day, but he doesn’t seek anyone’s company and he doesn’t allow himself to be alone with anyone. After breakfast, he returns to his room and simply doesn’t come back out.

As blithe as he acted about the whole thing, Maki didn’t miss the stiffness of his movements or the careful blankness of his expression. Despite the fact that she knows everything, Maki suspects Kokichi puts a considerable amount of effort into hiding how terrible he feels, even around her. Idiot.

Dinner that night is almost completely the same. Kokichi is usually a very vocal part of the group, whether people like it or not, but he’s been intentionally drawing back over the last week so that his absence wouldn’t be obvious once he was gone. Indeed, nobody even notices he’s missing until they’re clearing away the dishes, when Shuichi looks up suddenly.

“Where’s Kokichi? I just noticed he wasn’t here.”

“Oh yeah,” Kaito agrees, looking around. “That little snotrag is usually so annoying, I can’t believe I didn’t notice he was gone.”

“Oh, who cares where he is,” Miu pipes up, feet propped on the table. “He just causes trouble when he’s around.”

“Indeed,” Angie says placidly. “But he causes trouble when he’s not around as well. What schemes might he be concocting out of sight like this?”

“That’s a scary thought,” Tsumugi shudders. “Don’t talk like that!”

“But Gonta kind of worried,” Gonta offers, wringing his large hands nervously. “Kokichi usually here. What if something happen to him?”

“Are you suggesting another killing has taken place?” Kiyo asks.

Gonta’s eyes widen. “No! At least, Gonta hope not. Gonta only think he may be stuck somewhere. Or hurt.”

“There are supposedly places in the school we don’t know about yet,” Shuichi murmurs. “It’s possible he’s trapped somewhere.”

“Stop worrying!” Kaito insists. “He’s fine. If something happened to that guy, we’d hear him screaming halfway across the school.”

“Then perhaps he is planning something!” Angie chirps.

“Everyone calm down,” Maki commands, rising smoothly to her feet. “He’s not trapped and he’s not planning anything. At least not right now.”

“Do you know where he is, Maki?” Shuichi asks.

“Yes.” Maki heads for the kitchen.

“Well, don’t keep us waiting!” Kaito calls after her.

Maki ignores them long enough to load a few dishes onto a tray and exit the kitchen. The others are all staring at her when she emerges. “He’s sick.”

“Sick!” Tenko bursts out. “That’s it? Man, you had me freaked out, Maki! We all totally thought you killed him or something.”

“Only you thought that, Tenko,” Tsumugi admonishes.

“He was a little quiet at breakfast this morning.” Shuichi knits his eyebrows together. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”

“He seemed fine to me,” Kaito shrugs.

“Indeed,” Keebo sighs. “He was just as crude as always.”

“You see him, Maki?” Gonta asks. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, but it might be contagious,” Maki responds, providing as few details as possible.

“I take it you plan to deliver his dinner,” Kiyo nods to the tray in her hands.

“Yes.”

“How unexpectedly charitable of you.”

“Yeah, what gives?” Miu demands. “We thought you hated each other, and now you’re mothering him? After almost choking him to death? Don’t tell me that little freak is into that kind of thing—”

“I assure you, it’s not charity,” Maki interjects coldly. “Excuse me.” Before the others can get all worked up again, Maki leaves the dining hall, intensely aware of Shuichi’s curious gaze on her back.

When Maki gets to Kokichi’s room, she finds it unlocked. She wastes no time heading inside and catches him pushing himself up in bed. He rapidly pastes on a grin that does nothing to hide how pale he is. “My hero.”

“You should lock your door.” Maki sets the tray on the bedside table.

“I unlocked it for you a little while ago.” Kokichi runs a hand through his hair. “Being confined is so boring,” he whines. “The only thing I can do is sleep.”

Maki doesn’t point out that sleep is clearly the only thing he really has the energy for. “I’ll bring you some books from the library later.”

Kokichi blinks. “Wow, how thoughtful, Maki. You’re being so nice to me. Maybe Ultimate Child Caregiver isn’t so far off.”

“Shut up. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Alright, alright.” Kokichi swings his legs out of bed and plants his feet on the floor. “I know it’s just because I’m dying.” He reaches for the tray and Maki catches his wrist, pressing her fingers intentionally against his skin.

“You’re running a fever.”

“Oh, am I?” He slips out of her grasp and grabs the tray, unperturbed. “I hadn’t noticed.” He settles the tray beside himself on the bed. “I feel fine, so it can’t be that bad.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he sucks in a gasp and doubles over, one hand flying to cover his mouth. Rough, ugly coughs tear out of his chest, leaving no time to breathe.

Maki takes the glass from the tray and crosses to the bathroom.The sound of running water isn’t enough to block out Kokichi’s coughing, but after a second it dies down, and by the time Maki returns with a full glass, Kokichi is slumped over his knees, breathing heavily. A napkin from the tray is clutched in his hand and Maki can see the red bleeding through the paper.

As she approaches, Kokichi straightens up and discards the napkin in the waste bin beside the bed. He takes the glass when she offers it but doesn’t look her in the eyes.

Maki keeps her silence as he downs half the water.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, voice hoarse. “Did anyone notice I was gone?” His fingers drum restlessly against the smooth glass in his hands. “Dinner must have been boring without me.” He smiles, and it looks the same as always.

For a second, Maki considers lying to him, but she’s not sure where the impulse comes from, so she doesn’t listen to it. “Yeah. At the end, Shuichi asked about you. Then everyone realized you were gone.”

The look that flashes across Kokichi’s face is complicated, too complicated to decipher before his expression breaks into a smug grin. “Trust the Ultimate Detective to have his priorities straight.” He sets the glass on the bedside table. “Of course he would notice I was gone.”

“I thought the point was to not draw attention to it.”

“Well, yeah, that was the idea, but in reality I’m way too incredible not to be missed.” He picks up a bowl of rice from the tray and regards it thoughtfully. “What did you say?”

“That you were sick and it was contagious.”

“Simple, I like it.”

“Some of them seemed worried.” Maki watches Kokichi carefully for a reaction, but he doesn’t oblige.

He retrieves a pair of chopsticks and clicks them together a few times. “They were probably worried that you’re taking care of me.” He grins at her. “Though I can’t say for sure which one of us they should be worried about.”

“Eat,” Maki commands. “I’ll go get some books.”

“Nothing boring!” Kokichi calls after her.

She doesn’t gratify him with a response.

On her way out of the library, she runs into Shuichi. It’s not nighttime yet, but it is late enough to wonder why anyone is wandering around. He glances at the books in her arms.

“Are those for Kokichi?”

“Did you use your detective skills to figure that out?”

Shuichi smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his head like he always does when Maki bullies him. “Just guessing.”

“He’s a pain when he’s bored.”

“Yeah, I know.” His expression shifts into something more serious. “I have to say, I was surprised to hear that you were willingly taking care of him. It’s nice of you.”

“Believe me, I’m not doing it out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Still, after what he did—revealing your secret like that—it’s a little unexpected.”

Shuichi’s clearly probing for something, but Maki’s not sure what. “I couldn’t have kept it a secret forever. Eventually, one of you would have found out. To be painfully honest, I think he did me a bit of a favor.”

Shuichi tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

Maki sighs. “Since he was so cruel about it, some of the others actually pity me more than they fear me. He’s so irritating and weird that the fact that _he_ was the one who outed me may be the only reason I’m not dead already. Imagine what would have happened if someone had gotten into my Ultimate Lab.”

Shuichi furrows his brows. “Yeah, that probably would have been harder to contain. At least the way he did it, we were all together to keep anyone from doing anything crazy. Not to mention we were all exhausted from the trial.”

“I’m not saying he did any of that intentionally, and I still wish he’d kept his fucking mouth shut, but the situation could be a lot worse.”

Shuichi hums thoughtfully. “How long has he been sick?” he asks, switching gears. Maki is starting to suspect he tracked her down on purpose to interrogate her. “He was a little off at breakfast, but I had no idea anything was wrong.”

The truth is that Kokichi has been sick for over a week but is only now feeling the true toll of the disease. But Maki can’t say that. “Since yesterday.”

Shuichi puts his fingers to his mouth, a gesture Maki recognizes. Shuichi’s considering something. “I haven’t thought about it before, but what happens if someone gets sick outside of the killing game? Not to say that Kokichi is dying or anything—” Shuichi lets out a dry laugh and Maki stares at him blankly. “—but I wonder what circumstances might make Monokuma step in. Would he even step in? If someone died accidentally, would we still have a trial?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really want to think about it.”

“Ah!” Shuichi ducks his head. “Right. Sorry. It’s probably no good to think about this kind of thing.” He smiles at her. “Are you coming to training later?”

Maki scowls. “If I don’t, that idiot will just break down my door.”

Shuichi laughs. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“See you,” Maki says bluntly, stepping around Shuichi to head down the hall.

He doesn’t respond or follow her, and she gets the impression that he’s thinking hard. The prospect worries her.

There’s no talk of Kokichi at training that night and when Maki checks on him afterward, his door is still unlocked and he’s asleep. She helps herself to his key and leaves him a note so he won’t panic, even though that would be entertaining to see. She goes to bed thinking about Shuichi’s concern. How much of it was his normal curiosity and how much was something else?

She gets closer to an answer when Shuichi approaches her in the kitchen after breakfast the next morning.

“I can take that,” he offers, nodding to the tray in her hands.

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I know you two don’t really get along—”

“And you do? I wasn’t aware you were his best friend.”

Shuichi recoils slightly. “I—I wouldn’t say that.” As Maki watches, a faint pink darkens his cheeks. Is he blushing? Ridiculous.

“Just don’t worry about it,” Maki says steadily. “I can handle it.”

Despite her confident words, she finds herself on the edge of panic upon discovering how much Kokichi’s condition had worsened overnight. He’s nearly delirious with fever and can barely speak for coughing. Nevermind eating, Maki’s not sure he won’t suffocate by the end of the day.

She coaches her hands to be gentle as she lays a damp cloth over his forehead after a coughing fit that left him shaking and blood-spattered.

“You really are nice, Maki,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

“Why didn’t you tell me it had gotten this bad?”

“I haven’t exactly been very mobile today.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“Have some pity,” he whines, prying his eyes open and looking at her balefully. “My head is full of flower petals and I’m dying.”

Maki retrieves another wet hand towel and dabs at the blood drying in rivulets down Kokichi’s chin, perhaps a bit rougher than she needs to be. “The flowers have nothing to do with your stupidity level, which has always been high.”

Kokichi tries to squirm away and she grabs him by the shoulder to keep him still. “Just like a mother,” he grumbles.

“I’d hate to meet your mother.”

“Yeah, you probably wouldn’t like her.” He looks distant for a moment before he squeezes his eyes shut and tugs the cloth on his forehead down to cover them. “I’m freezing, but I still feel like I’m about to combust.”

Maki rises and heads for the bathroom, dumping the bloodied towel in the sink. She’ll have to grab some more from the warehouse later, once she’s sure it’s okay to leave Kokichi alone. “It’s a miracle your brain hasn’t been boiled already.”

“Who’s to say it hasn’t?” Kokichi croaks in response.

“At this rate,” Maki continues, returning to the bedroom, “the fever may get you before the flowers.” Ultimately, hanahaki kills you by obstructing your airways and scraping away the lining of your lungs and esophagus, so if the petals choking you doesn’t do it, the blood filling your lungs will. If the condition lingers too long, however, the fever can climb high enough to finish the job first.

“Maybe that would be preferable.” Kokichi seems unconcerned with the rapidly approaching reality of his own death, but Maki can’t really see his expression. “Whichever gets me first, it won’t be much longer.”

Kokichi’s fever doesn’t break, but it and the coughing settle down enough for Maki to duck out of the room for a few minutes. First, she heads to the warehouse to pick up supplies, dodging Tenko’s attempt to pull her into a sparring session. The prospect isn’t wholly unpleasant, but Maki doesn’t have the time. Instead, Tenko trails her to the warehouse, babbling her ear off.

“Oh, are you still looking after Kokichi?” she realizes after several minutes of one-sided conversation. “You really are some kind of saint, Maki. I wouldn’t touch that degenerate goblin with a twenty-foot pole unless I was stabbing him with it.”

Against her will, Maki’s lips twitch up slightly. “I definitely understand your feelings.”

“But you’re still taking care of him?” Tenko cocks her head to the side. “Is it really bad? Like, is he dying?”

“I thought I saw Himiko going to the basement with Angie earlier,” Maki swiftly changes the subject. “I wonder what they were up to.”

Predictably, Tenko takes the bait immediately. “That creepy little sycophant! Himiko! I’m coming!” And she dashes out of the warehouse without a backwards glance.

Maki sighs. Kaede had mentioned something about how gathering so many Ultimates in one place would naturally mean contending with a lot of strong personalities. Maki hadn’t known at the time how true that would be.

After finishing in the warehouse, Maki drops by her own room for a quick shower before going straight back to Kokichi. She expects she’ll be pretty busy over the next few days.

It’s a rough night.

At the orphanage, she often found herself taking care of sick children, and even though compassion hasn’t been a part of her life in a long time, she falls back into old habits readily enough. None of the kids she looked after had hanahaki, but she’s seen it before, so she’s not completely unprepared.

Unsettlingly, Kokichi pegs this fact about her pretty quickly.

“I figured you’d seen it in some capacity,” he whispers, voice shot after a particularly lengthy coughing fit. It’s a few minutes after the morning announcement. Maki had spent the entire night in Kokichi’s room. Sporadic sleep schedules are something she’d used to, but she can’t deny she’s worn out. Whatever she’s feeling, however, Kokichi must be feeling magnitudes worse. It’s not like he got any good sleep either. “But I thought it was impersonal. Like an educational video at assassin school or something.” He slides her a sideways glance. “But you’ve seen it for real, haven’t you?”

Maki regards him from her perch on the chair beside the bed. “Are you asking for the story?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll tell you. It’s not like it’s a secret.” Maki crosses her legs. “I’ve seen it twice. Once was a target. He was already too far gone by the time I even found him. In the end, he begged me to shoot him.”

“A mercy.” Kokichi blinks bemusedly at the ceiling. “But not very entertaining.”

“The second was a girl I was trained with. We had occasional contact with some of the group officials and she managed to fall in love with one of them. Can’t tell you how.” She shakes her head. “When I found out, I thought she was so stupid. I didn’t understand why she couldn’t just stop feeling that way. It was hopeless and, after a while, it was killing her.”

“Well, we can’t all just turn our emotions off. We’re not all as lucky as Keebo.”

“Anyway, it was just a regular crush until she was assigned to kill him.”

Kokichi rolls to face Maki with some effort, eyes wide like he’s watching a soap opera. “I thought you said he was a member?”

“There was no loyalty in the organization. If you stopped being useful, you were disposed of. I don’t know if our handlers knew about her feelings, but it wouldn’t have mattered. She had an assignment, and that was the only law we knew.”

“So she did it?” Kokichi asks, voice quiet and wondering.

“Yeah.” Maki fights the urge to run her hands through her hair nervously. The memories aren’t pleasant. “She wasn’t sick before he died, but once she killed him, she started coughing up petals. She went fast too, within a week. No one even tried to help. There would have been no point.”

“Wow,” Kokichi marvels quietly. “That’s cold, Maki. You sound like you don’t even care that your friend died.”

“We weren’t friends,” Maki corrects him. “There were no friends in that place.”

“Then this must be a bit of an improvement, right?”

“What?”

Kokichi smiles at her. It’s not as wide or pointy as usual, but the impishness is the same. Must be an inherent quality. “Yeah, there’s still death and suffering here, but at least you have friends.”

Maki narrows her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean? You can’t be that blind, Maki. The others like you! At least Kaito and Shuichi do. Gonta likes everyone. Tenko got over that whole assassin thing pretty much instantly. I’m not sure about Miu, but if you choke her like you choked me, I’m sure she’d come around—”

“Okay—” Maki cuts in. “I get it.”

“I know you guys aren’t fans of the killing game, for whatever reason, so it probably still sucks for all of you, but now you’ve got people who will give a damn if you start vomiting flower petals! Isn’t that nice?”

Maki considers him for a beat. “I never know what you’re trying to tell me.”

He snorts and falls onto his back. “Just listen to my words, Maki Roll. Not everything I say is part of a master manipulation. Although most of it is.” He takes a shuddering breath and coughs weakly. The sound is undeniably wet.

“Here.” Maki stands and retrieves a glass of water from the table. “Drink this while I go get breakfast.” At his sour look, she rolls her eyes. “Don’t be a baby. You need to eat.”

Kokichi sighs and struggles into a sitting position, accepting the glass with trembling hands. “Aren’t you tired, Maki?”

“I’ll live. Drink that.”

Maki stands to leave, but the sound of knocking on the door stops her in her tracks. She glances at Kokichi, who stares back silently.

The knocks come again a second later.

“If they can’t find us, they’ll just freak out,” Kokichi mutters.

Unfortunately, Maki can’t deny that, so she crosses resolutely to the door, already formulating excuses in her head. She swings the door open to find Shuichi standing outside, a tray balanced on one hand, the other raised to knock again. He blinks at the sight of her.

“Oh, good morning, Maki,” he says, lowering his hand. “I didn’t see you at breakfast, so I thought you were still asleep.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, I can see that. You missed training last night, and I didn’t see you go back to your room either.”

Maki narrows her eyes at him. “You were keeping tabs on me?”

“Not intentionally!” he hurries to defend himself. “I just...noticed. That’s all.” He peers around her into the room. “Have you...have you been here all night?”

Maki crosses her arms. “Is that a problem?”

“No!” Shuichi says quickly. “No! Actually, I thought that might be the case, so, uh—” he holds up the tray. “I thought I’d bring you and Kokichi breakfast.”

“How thoughtful.” Maki reaches for the tray, but Shuichi doesn’t immediately hand it to her.

“How is Kokichi doing?” he asks, trying to sound casual and failing.

“Fine,” Maki answers shortly.

“Because I figured it must be bad if you felt the need to spend all night with him.”

“That’s my business.”

“It’s just that—”

“Is that Shuichi?” Kokichi calls from inside.

Maki grits her teeth. “Yes.”

“Tell him to come in!”

“Why?”

“‘Cuz I wanna see him!”

Wondering what on earth Kokichi is thinking, Maki reluctantly grabs the tray from Shuichi and steps aside, allowing him entry.

He cuts her an unreadable glance as he passes.

“Shuichi!” Kokichi chirps upon seeing him. He sounds horrible, but at least there aren’t any stray petals lying around. “You came to see me! I’m so flattered.”

“Everyone’s worried about you,” Shuichi says, and if he’s surprised by Kokichi’s state, he doesn’t let it into his voice.

Maki trails after him and finds Kokichi sans water glass, sitting upright and doing his best to look normal. No amount of acting can hide the hollows of his cheeks or the shadows under his eyes, but when he smiles, alight with Shuichi’s direct attention, it’s almost like nothing’s changed.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Shuichi,” he giggles.

“I’m not lying.” Shuichi shifts his weight. “It’s...weird not having you around. Everyone thinks so.”

“You just miss playing with me, don’t you?” Kokichi looks up at Shuichi through his lashes.

Shuichi swallows visibly. “Some—something like that.” He clears his throat. “I thought I could stay with you for a little while and let Maki get some rest—”

He’s cut off by the clatter of Maki setting the tray forcefully down on the desk. “No.”

“Well, I was thinking—”

“No.”

“You’ve been up all night, right? So—”

“I’m fine. I don’t need help.”

“Just a little while—”

“What part of _no_ don’t you understand?”

“Maki.” Suddenly, Shuichi’s voice hardens and his posture expands. He’s not arguing. Maki exchanges a look with Kokichi. “You’re wearing yourself out. I won’t ask what’s going on, since I know neither of you will tell me, but I’m worried about you both. You won’t be any good to anyone if you collapse, Maki.” His gaze is steady, uncompromising.

Maki holds it unwaveringly. “I can’t leave him.”

Shuichi doesn’t look surprised at her words, and Maki wonders if it’s time to start worrying how much he knows. “Fine. Your reasons aren’t really any of my business. If you won’t go back to your room, why don’t you rest here?”

Kokichi claps. “Like a slumber party!”

“Kind of. You could bring the mattress from your bed in here. There’s plenty of space on the floor. That way, you could get some rest, but you’ll still be nearby if anything happens.”

Maki glares at him, unwilling to give in. It’s too risky. Having Shuichi anywhere nearby is dangerous, but they’ve clearly reached the limit of Shuichi’s patience. Without knowing the reasons, there’s no way he’d leave someone who was suffering alone. Even if he knew the reasons, perhaps he’d act the same.

“Come on, Maki,” Kokichi says after a moment, breaking her and Shuichi’s staring contest as they both turn to him. “It might be kind of fun! Plus, you know how Shuichi can get.” He fixes her with a meaningful look. “He’s such a hardass.”

“I—I wouldn’t say it like that!” Shuichi stammers.

“Oh, then how would you say it?” Kokichi leans forward, eyes shining with the excitement from his favorite activity: teasing Shuichi. “A killjoy? A spoilsport? A _mom_?”

“I’m just worried,” Shuichi insists, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Fine,” Maki says shortly. “We’ll do that. Go get my mattress, then.”

Shuichi blinks in surprise. “Uh—you’re okay with me just going into your room?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? Are you going to do something weird?” Ignoring Shuichi’s spluttering reaction, Maki continues, “The door’s unlocked. Just drag the whole thing in here.”

Seemingly mollified, Shuichi nods. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As soon as he’s gone, Maki rounds on Kokichi. “Are you crazy?”

“Look,” Kokichi starts, painstakingly piling pillows behind himself so he can sit upright without straining. “I think we’ve reached the end of our solitude. I half figured Shuichi would get too suspicious if this dragged out long enough. Honestly, this is sooner than I anticipated, but it’s the same outcome. We’ll just have to be careful.”

Unimpressed, Maki re-stacks the pillows and shoves Kokichi less-than-gently against them. “How can you stand it?” she asks, the words falling out of her mouth before she can stop them.

He tilts his head at her. “Stand it?”

“Having him near you,” she grits out.

Kokichi is quiet for a moment. Then a brittle smile makes its way onto his face. “I can’t stand it,” he admits softly. “I can’t stand seeing him. But I can’t stand not seeing him either. As selfish as it is, I _want_ to be near him. As much as possible. Until the end.”

Sometimes, Maki forgets where this whole thing started: a teenage boy in love.

“We’ll have to be incredibly careful,” she sighs.

Kokichi beams.

Maki watches impassively a few minutes later as Shuichi struggles to drag her mattress into the room. Kokichi cheers him on hoarsely, still managing to sound rude despite the encouraging words.

Shuichi settles the mattress on the floor, sweating slightly.

“You’re out of breath just from that?” Maki shakes her head. “Miserable.”

“Be nice, Maki,” Kokichi says glibly. “We’re not all precisely honed weapons of strength and stealth, you know.”

Maki shoots him a warning glare.

“Well, you have seen me at training, Maki.” Shuichi tugs the blankets into place on the mattress. “You know I’m not, ah—fit.” He tosses her the pillow and she catches it smoothly.

“Oh yeah,” Kokichi hums. “You said you were doing training every night when you lied about overhearing Maki and Ryoma.”

Shuichi and Maki both stiffen at his words, but he barrels ahead obliviously.

“Why does a teenage detective need to train?” he questions. “Oh, I know! It’s so you can chase down the bad guys like Shinichi Kudou!”

Shuichi laughs nervously. “Detective work is never that exciting. And we’re just doing push-ups and things like that.”

Kokichi braces one elbow on his knee and leans his cheek against his hand, smiling playfully. “Kaito, Shuichi, and Maki all doing push-ups together. That’s something I’ve gotta see.”

Shuichi smiles back. It’s not as playful, but no one really does _playful_ quite like Kokichi. “You can come when you’re feeling better.”

“It’s a date! Oh, but I don’t wanna do anything, I just wanna watch.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Shuichi looks at Maki. “Just rest a little. I swear I only want to help.”

“I know you do, Shuichi,” Maki sighs, tossing the pillow onto the mattress. She really is tired. She’s stayed up longer, and in more tense situations, but there’s something about what’s happening that seems to be leeching all her energy. She catches Shuichi with a sharp look. “If he starts coughing, wake me up immediately.”

The little detective gears in Shuichi’s head start visibly turning. “Why?”

“Because it’s his most violent symptom,” Maki answers readily, “and he needs something to brace against so he doesn’t pull a muscle. As we just established, you are not strong.”

Shuichi doesn’t appear entirely convinced, but he doesn’t pursue the matter, merely nodding obediently.

As appeased as she’s going to get, Maki toes off her shoes and lowers herself onto the mattress. “You get some sleep, too,” she tells Kokichi sternly.

He blinks wide doe-eyes at her. “Yes, mommy.”

Lip curled in distaste, Maki resigns herself and lies down, pulling the blankets up. She hears soft footsteps padding around the room and then the lights dim. The room isn’t completely dark, the lamp by the bed still glowing. Maki buries her head in her pillow and listens absently as Shuichi sits in the chair she recently vacated.

“She’s right,” Shuichi says softly. “You should get some sleep. You look terrible.”

Kokichi lets out a grating chuckle. “You’ve really gotta work on your flirting techniques, Shuichi. You have no tact.”

“I see you still feel well enough to pick on me.”

“I’ll never be too sick to pick on you.”

“I guess that’s sort of a relief. Are you hungry?”

“Not right now.” A rustle of fabric. Maki imagines Kokichi leaning back against the pillows and regarding Shuichi in the half-light. “And I don’t feel like sleeping.” Too sore, probably. “But I’m afraid I won’t be very entertaining for you, Shuichi. I don’t have the energy for our usual games.”

Maki doesn’t want to think about what their _usual games_ might entail.

“Uh, yeah, it’s probably best we don’t try to do any of...that,” Shuichi agrees haltingly. “But, I did bring the deck of cards you gave me. Maybe that will distract you until you can fall asleep.”

There’s a moment of silence in the room that Maki can’t quite decipher, before Kokichi clears his throat. “Okay. I hope you brought money to bet with!”

“Uh—”

“Just kidding.” Maki can hear the smile in Kokichi’s voice. “Here—” the sound of cards sliding against each other, “—do you know beggar-my-neighbor?”

“No.”

“That’s fine, I’ll teach you. It’s easy enough for even you to understand.”

Shuichi snorts at the barb and their conversation dissolves into soft murmurs and shuffling. All at once, Maki’s exhaustion catches up to her and she drifts off to the quiet sounds of Shuichi losing a card game.

When she resurfaces, her internal clock tells her it’s been about two hours. Definitely long enough. Without wasting any time, she opens her eyes and sits up, swiftly taking stock.

The room is still dim but it’s quiet now. Shuichi looks over from his seat and sets aside the book he was flipping through, putting a finger to his lips. Maki instantly sees why. Kokichi is asleep, propped on the mound of pillows and breathing steadily. The sound is raspy but even. Even in the dim light, Maki can see the flush of fever still coloring his face. Honestly, she doubts the fever will go away at this point.

“He fell asleep about an hour ago,” Shuichi whispers. “I got him to eat a little, but not much.”

Maki hums, throwing the covers aside and maneuvering until her feet are on the floor. She doesn’t stand up because she doesn’t have anywhere to go, so she just watches as Shuichi rises and crosses to the mattress, sinking down to sit beside her.

“Did he cough at all?” she asks.

“No, but his voice is shot.” Shuichi bends his legs and rests his crossed arms on his knees. “Is that just from coughing?”

“Yes.”

“Maki, what is going on?”

She narrows her eyes at him. “You said you wouldn’t ask.”

Shuichi holds her gaze. “I wasn’t going to. I respect your privacy, both of you. And I trust that you aren’t scheming anything dangerous, but I’m worried.” His eyes flicker between Maki and the bed and back. “He’s really sick. I can tell. And he’s been withdrawing from the group, even before you say he got sick, like he knew this was going to happen.”

Internally, Maki curses Shuichi’s detective ability. His sharp instincts are handy in a trial, but Kokichi was completely right about him being the worst possible person to fall in love with in this scenario. “And how could he possibly know that?”

“I’m not sure. But I think you know.”

“You’re wrong.” Maki has no problem lying if it’s to save everyone’s lives.

Shuichi’s expression twists into something pained. “I don’t know why you’re lying to me, but I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not lying, and everything is fine.” Maki pushes herself to her feet. “You said you trust me, so trust me.”

Shuichi doesn’t respond, gazing distantly at the bed. “I was serious, earlier,” he murmurs after a moment of silence. “The others are worried. Some of them don’t act like it, but I can tell. Kokichi is...difficult, and I don’t blame anyone who doesn’t like him, but...I think, on some level, the others recognize what he’s doing.”

“And what is that?”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” Shuichi stands smoothly and faces her. “You said it yourself: he did you a favor by telling everyone the truth when he did. He acts oblivious, but he’s always doing stuff like that, guiding us.”

“Coincidence.”

“Maybe one or two times would be a coincidence, but this is—”

Shuichi words are cut off by the sound of sheets rustling and they both snap their attention to the bed in time to see Kokichi curl up on his side, a hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut.

In a flash, Maki is at his side. “If you want to be helpful—” she snaps, making sure to block Shuichi’s view of Kokichi with her body, “—go get some more towels from the warehouse.”

Shuichi takes a step forward, features tight with concern. “But—”

“Don’t argue, just go!”

Convinced by Maki’s menacing tone, Shuichi reluctantly leaves the room, throwing a worried look over his shoulder as he closes the door.

The petals are nearly completely red, but it’s hard to tell the color for all the blood, and the fit leaves Kokichi gasping raggedly. He spits a last few bloody petals into a tissue and drops it into the trash can with a disgusted groan.

Maki ensures that the petals and blood are obscured inside the bin (she’ll burn the whole thing the next time she can get away) and passes Kokichi the glass of water on the bedside table. He can barely grasp it through his trembling and Maki wordlessly supports it for him as he sips carefully.

“Why doesn’t hanahaki just eat a hole in your heart?” he moans when he’s finished. “That would achieve the same goal, and feel about the same, but at least it’d leave a beautiful corpse.” He plucks sulkily at his baggy pajama shirt. “I’m gonna be thirty pounds by the time I finally kick the bucket, plus I’ll be drooling blood the whole time. How romantic.”

“Hanahaki isn’t romantic,” Maki responds, fingers clawing into the bedspread. “It’s disgusting and evil and violent.”

“That’s not what all those movies told me,” Kokichi pouts. “Aren’t I supposed to suffer beautifully until my true love swoops in at the last moment to save me?”

“This isn’t a movie.” Putting aside the inherent tragedy of hanahaki in normal circumstances, Maki can’t ignore how much worse Kokichi’s situation is. He can’t even hope for a rescue without endangering the person he’s in love with.

Kokichi sighs and tilts his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes. “Trust me, I know.” He presses his lips together in a thin line before speaking again. “Maybe you were right, Maki. I should just kill myself.”

A spike of panic lances through her. “What?”

Eyes still closed, Kokichi’s voice is barely audible, “I’ll be super careful and choose something that won’t fail. At least some of the guns in your lab are real, right? Even if they’re not, I’m sure I can find something. Then I’ll call everyone together and explain—”

“Stop.”

Kokichi’s eyes shoot open and they both look down. Without realizing, Maki had placed a hand over Kokichi’s on the bed. She quickly withdraws the touch and swallows hard.

“If...if that’s what you really want to do—” she meets Kokichi’s cloudy gaze with surprising difficulty. “Then I won’t stop you. But I...I know that there are people here who—” she casts about for the right words. Why is this so hard? “—don’t want to see that.”

Kokichi blinks and his expression is unreadable.

Maki continues: “You wouldn’t be able to explain why you were doing it, not truthfully, and I think that would tear Shuichi apart.”

Kokichi lowers his eyes, smiling sardonically. “A mystery he can’t solve, huh?”

“Not just that. He’s been through...a lot. He was closer to Kaede than any of us. Making him watch someone he cares about die for no good reason—I don’t know if he could take it.” She doesn’t mention the others—how despite Kokichi’s best attempts to push everyone away, he’s become a fixture of the group. She doesn’t mention Kaito’s begrudging affection or Miu’s weird dependence or Gonta’s excitement every time Kokichi clues him in on a scheme. She doesn’t mention the painful twinge in her own chest at the thought of Kokichi smilingly stabbing himself in front of their stunned friends.

A muscle jumps in Kokichi’s jaw. “I’m just going to die anyway. Probably within the next few days, and it’ll be just as horrible.”

Maki can’t refute that, but she also can’t ignore the tiny voice in her head pleading for more time. If they have time, something might change. A miracle might happen. “We can’t forget the possibility that Monokuma is involved in this somehow,” she says quietly. It’s a possibility she’d been considering, but without much conviction. Monokuma couldn’t have that much control over them, could he? “He could react badly if you end the game early.”

For a second, Kokichi is frozen, then he slowly lifts his gaze to lock with Maki’s. His eyes are wide and they look clearer than they have in days. “You might be right, Maki,” he breathes. “That wouldn’t be any fun, would it?”

Before Maki can ask what he means, the door swings open, admitting Shuichi, laden with towels and what looks like some spare sheets. “Uh, sorry, Maki,” he says meekly.

“What are you apologizing for?” a familiar voice demands, making it immediately obvious what Shuichi is apologizing for.

Trailing Shuichi into the room is a wounded-looking Kaito. Maki stands.

“What is he doing here?”

“He cornered me in the warehouse and wouldn’t go away,” Shuichi mumbles. “He knew I was here and insisted on coming.”

“Don’t make it sound like I bullied you, man!” Kaito protests.

“Shuichi, you brought this space cadet to my sickbed?” Kokichi whines. “I thought we were friends!”

Kaito’s eyebrows shoot up and he doesn’t even baulk at Kokichi’s rude words. “Whoa, you sound like shit.”

“What do you mean?” Kokichi crosses his arms. “I sound exactly the same.”

“Nuh-uh, you sound like you’ve been chewing steel wool.”

“Well, at least I sound better than your dumb hippie drawl.”

“My _what_ —”

“Kaito—” Shuichi cuts him off, dumping the linens on the armchair. “Remember I said you had to behave? He’s really sick.”

Kokichi snorts through his nose. “I’ll never be so sick that I have to be treated gently by this moron.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaito scratches the back of his head and glances around the room. “You guys been having a sleepover without me?”

“Yup!” Kokichi chirps. “We’ve been braiding each other’s hair and watching scary movies and talking about boys.” He slides Maki a look that’s too devious for her liking. “Right, Maki?”

She glares back. The last thing she needs is Kokichi picking up on her confusing feelings for Kaito goddamn Momota.

“Bro, I can’t believe you just ditched me.” Kaito claps Shuichi on the shoulder. “I’ve been stuck hanging with Keebo. And Tenko.” He grimaces and rubs a spot on his back. “That girl packs a punch.”

“Well, no duh Shuichi would rather hang out with me,” Kokichi preens theatrically, though it’s lacking his usual energy. “Even bedridden, I’m way more fun. He’s finally seeing the truth, even if he is terrible at beggar-my-neighbor.”

“What? That’s not even a real card game!”

Kokichi and Kaito squabble back and forth while Shuichi retrieves the linens and starts sorting them with an aggrieved expression. Maki watches the scene, arms crossed, trying to decipher the mood. When Kaito plants himself on the bed beside Kokichi to better illustrate the merits of some card game he apparently learned from his days as a pirate, Maki figures this is just how things are going to be for a little while.

She takes some of the towels and carries them to the bathroom, leaving the rest on the desk and when she comes back, Kaito is spreading a deck of cards out on the comforter while Kokichi complains about his messy shuffling technique.

Shuichi wanders over to hover at her elbow. “I really am sorry,” he mutters. “I know you don’t want people around, even though you won’t tell me why, but Kaito seemed really worried. You know he doesn’t like being left out of things.”

“Yes, I’m aware that he’s a nosy idiot.” She doesn’t fail to notice the way Kaito keeps his voice lower than usual, or how a bit of the mischievous glint has returned to Kokichi’s tired eyes. “But it might be okay. As long as we don’t push it.”

“Of course.”

Despite clearly feeling terrible, Kokichi doesn’t go easy on Kaito, who loses with the requisite amount of complaining and blustering. Kokichi tries to cajole Shuichi into another game but Maki puts her foot down and insists he go back to sleep.

Kaito flips the room’s television on, casting flickering shadows around the dim room, and lowers the volume until it’s nothing but an ambient background hum. All the televisions ever show are low-budget, poorly-edited rip-offs of popular films starring the monocubs, but it’s not like any of them are actually watching it.

Surprisingly, Kokichi falls asleep easily, despite the amount of people in the room. They’re not being loud, but Kokichi doesn’t seem the type to feel comfortable enough around others to let his guard down like that. Maki supposes it just speaks to how worn out he is. Or how he unconsciously trusts them all, despite himself.

And so it goes for the next 48 hours.

It’s a delicate balancing act between taking care of Kokichi and managing Shuichi and Kaito’s involvement. Kaito can be convinced to leave at night but Shuichi insists on hanging around unless Maki orders him to perform a specific task. If pressed, she might admit it’s nice to have someone else around to keep an eye on Kokichi when she can’t be there or has to take a break, but in general she’d prefer that they weren’t there.

It might be better in the long run, however. If they can keep Shuichi unaware of the real situation while he’s literally in the same room as Kokichi, he’ll be less likely to suspect something.

Hopefully.

Maki doesn’t see a decrease in his curiosity, though, and she heavily suspects he’s trying to catch her off-guard to get more information, since he tends to inquire out-of-the-blue or just after she wakes up.

Thankfully, Kaito isn’t nearly as inquisitive. He accepts their explanation that they don’t know why Kokichi is so ill, just that he is, readily enough, and even acts as a go-between for them and the other students, who have started poking around as well. Some of them even come to Kokichi’s room, but Kokichi is really too ill to keep up the facade by that point, so Maki sends them away.

It’s only when Gonta knocks hesitantly early one evening, his hulking frame hunched with worry, that Kokichi manages to pull on a smile and even stumble to the door himself to accept a tearful hug.

“This is nothing,” he rasps, patting Gonta’s back reassuringly. “I feel totally fine! But Maki insists I stay in bed, and I’d do anything to make her happy!”

Maki rolls her eyes.

Gonta is on his knees to reach Kokichi, and even then he has to bend forward to stay on Kokichi’s level as he clings to the smaller boy. “Gonta very worried,” he sniffles. “Friends keep disappearing. Everything so quiet without Kokichi. Shuichi so sad. Gonta sad too.”

Kokichi laughs softly. “Aw, chin up, big guy. Things will be back to normal before you know it. And since I’m not there, it’s your job to keep everyone’s feet on the ground, got it?”

Gonta mumbles something that might be watery assent and then allows himself to be cajoled into leaving. Kokichi waves cheerfully from the doorway until he’s out of sight before nearly collapsing to the floor.

Maki catches him with one arm and shuts the door swiftly with the other. “Dumbass,” she mutters, hauling Kokichi back to bed.

He lands against the pillows and lets out a shaky breath that Maki thinks is supposed to be a laugh. “Did you hear that, Maki? Everyone’s _worried_. Shuichi is _sad_.”

“We already knew that.” She tugs the blankets back into place around him. “You shouldn’t have pushed yourself like that.”

“Couldn’t have Gonta freaking out. You know he’d break the door down if he thought something was really wrong.” Kokichi blinks dazedly at the ceiling. “But they’ll move on soon enough.”

Maki doesn’t say anything.

“Ugh,” Kokichi groans, slapping a hand over his eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening to me. I had so many _plans_. You guys were going to _hate_ me. If this had happened just a little later, you’d all be lining up to watch me choke to death on my own blood. Instead I’ve got mournful well-wishers and you trying to convince me not to kill myself.” His lips twist miserably. “How did this go so wrong?”

It won’t do any good to be curious about Kokichi’s supposed plans, since none of it matters anymore, but Maki wonders if it has anything to do with the stacks of notes she found in the desk drawers, or the collection of evidence from the previous murder cases stashed in the closet. If the way Kokichi was talking was any indication, at least some of his contrarian attitude was a ruse, but a ruse in service of what? Maki could ask, but she just can’t summon the desire. There are more pressing concerns at hand now.

“We’re getting down to the end of it, aren’t we?” Kokichi mutters, eyes still hidden.

“I think so,” Maki answers honestly.

“I wish I could have figured it out, but I think I’ve lost. I don’t know what’s really going on, but we’re being lied to.” He drops his hand and looks Maki right in the eye, intensity shining weakly in his gaze. “Don’t trust anything they tell you. The flashback lights, the memories, the motives, they’re lies.”

Maki blinks. “Wha—”

“Something’s going on here that we haven’t even considered. Maki—” the blanket beside Maki crimps as Kokichi curls his fingers weakly into the fabric. “You and Shuichi, you’re smart—you have to figure it out.”

“I don’t—”

“I couldn’t talk to you because I didn’t know who to trust. The mastermind is still among us, but I’m deciding to trust you, and if that’s a mistake then fuck it, I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” He smiles grimly. “At least I won’t be around to suffer for it.”

Maki puts a hand over Kokichi’s wrist, fingers encircling fine bones and dry, burning skin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—Kokichi, please, I need to know what you know.”

“That’s it—we’re being lied to. That’s all I know.” He chuckles humorlessly. “Pathetic, right?”

So Kokichi thinks everything they’ve been told about their pasts is a lie. “How could they put fake memories in our heads?” she wonders quietly.

“The same way they have giant mechs wandering around a self-sustaining school campus that is apparently floating in a fucking void. Nothing here makes sense, and anything Monokuma tells you is a lie meant to further some sort of plot, but I don’t know what. I ran out of time.”

Time. That’s the tragedy, isn’t it? This whole thing has been nothing but a ticking clock, putting a complete halt to every other thought on Maki’s mind, just like the time limit at the beginning—

Just like the time limit.

Overcome by a sudden rush of inexplicable emotion, Maki seizes Kokichi by the shoulders. “Kokichi, you don’t think—”

Whatever wild theory was about to tumble uncontrollably from her mouth is interrupted by the sound of the door opening—Shuichi and Kaito returning from wherever Maki had sent them. Quickly, Maki disengages herself and stands, pasting on an emotionless mask.

“We passed a very weepy Gonta on the way here,” Shuichi says, dutifully passing the book in his arms to Kokichi when he makes grabby hands for it. Ah, right, the library. That’s where they were. “Something wrong?”

“Oh, you know how sensitive he is,” Kokichi replies breezily, or as breezily as he can manage. “He’s just upset that he can’t see my beautiful face every day.”

“Yeah, yeah, rein it in, tiger.” Kaito flops down on the armchair. “It’s almost dinner time. How about it, Maki?” He shoots her a rakish grin. “Wanna take a break and get some grub? Shuichi can watch the invalid.”

She’s too frazzled to be frazzled by the grin but it happens somehow anyway. A surreptitious glance at Kokichi earns her an unsubtle wink. “Fine. We’ll bring some back for you two.”

Shuichi thanks her while Kokichi waves a dismissive hand.

As they step out of the dorm building, Kaito scratches the back of his head. “He’s not really getting better, is he?” he asks gruffly.

Maki shoots him a look. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Maki Roll. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Sometimes things get worse before they get better,” Maki says evenly. “It’s only been a few days.”

“Sure.” Kaito looks down at his feet, brow furrowed. “You think it’s something serious?”

“Serious enough.”

“He certainly doesn’t seem very worried about it.”

“Maybe because there’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Makes you think, though.” Kaito shoves his hands into his pockets, looking uncharacteristically pensive. “Can you die from something outside the game? Would Monokuma let that happen?”

_No_ , says the voice in Maki’s head. _He wouldn’t_. Kokichi was right. That wouldn’t be any fun. The creeping dread that _something_ else is going on here lodges in her throat. “You should talk to Shuichi about it,” she forces out. “He’s curious. I’m not.”

“Eh, he’s been all weird the past few days. Like he’s thinking about something.” Kaito shrugs. “Quiet. More than usual, anyway.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

“So what’s the deal, Maki?” Kaito asks, voice pitching back up to something resembling his usual enthusiasm. “Out of all of us, I figured you’d hate the little gremlin the most, but you’re taking care of him. You won’t even let anyone else get close. What’s got you all mama-bear?”

Maki bristles. “Excuse me?”

Kaito grins, not concerned in the least. “It’s a legitimate question!”

“My business is my business.”

“Yeah, that’s true. And I guess if it means you’re making friends with the others, it’s all good. I’m just surprised.”

Maki wonders how many times she’s going to have this exact conversation before everything ends.

They mount the steps into the building and Kaito pulls the door open for Maki but she doesn’t step through. Her feet pause right before the threshold.

“Uh, something up?” Kaito wonders, propping his shoulder against the door to keep it open.

“Why is it so strange?” Maki asks quietly.

“What?”

Maki raises her gaze the considerable distance it takes to lock eyes with Kaito. “Why is it so strange that I’m taking care of Kokichi?” she asks again. “Because I hate him? He asked for my help. Does everyone really think I’m so cold that I’d ignore someone suffering right in front of me? Do you think I’d ignore Shuichi? Or you?”

Kaito blinks. “Well, no, but we’re—”

“Friends. Right. Does everyone pick and choose the lives that matter? Are only those you personally like worthy of kindness?”

“Whoa, whoa, Maki, I didn’t say—”

“Then why is it strange?” Maki demands. “Maybe it’s not because of who he is, but who _I_ am?” Maki clenches her fists. “A killing machine, feelings surgically removed, incapable of empathy—someone like that could never care about others without an ulterior motive, right?” Her voice is rising but she can’t stop it. “If you never knew who I really was, would we be having this conversation? Would you even think to _ask_? Would—”

“Maki!” Kaito cuts her off, lurching forward and crowding Maki over the threshold. She steps back instinctively and he follows, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. It closes with a thud, sealing them inside the dim, empty entrance hall.

Breathing harder than she should be, Maki stares up at Kaito. His eyes glitter in the half-light.

“I wasn’t accusing you,” he says softly. “But, I—yeah, it sounded like I was. I’m sorry. I never want to make you feel...like I don’t trust you.”

Maki swallows. “You shouldn’t trust me.”

Kaito shakes his head. “That’s my business. And whatever is going on with Kokichi is your business. I shouldn’t pry. And of course you wouldn’t ignore someone who needed your help, no matter if you’re the Ultimate Child Caregiver or the Ultimate Assassin or the Ultimate Pie Chef—you’re a good person, Maki, and I don’t doubt that. You don’t have to defend yourself to me. You told me to let it go and I—I didn't. I’m sorry.”

Unable to hold Kaito’s intense gaze anymore, Maki crosses her arms and looks away. “I’m not mad at you. I know it seems weird and I shouldn’t be so defensive, but that’s all people seem to care about. _Why_ I’m doing it. He’s sick. I guess I thought that was reason enough.”

“It is.” Kaito claps a hand on her shoulder, and if it lingers for just a second longer than usual, Maki’s sure that’s her imagination. “You’re a good person, Maki, no matter what you say.”

“...whatever.”

When they return, Maki steps into the room in time to see Kokichi quickly withdraw his hand from Shuichi’s grasp. He smiles wryly at them.

“You two sure took your time.”

Maki cuts a look at Shuichi as he stands and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking troubled.

Later, when Shuichi is dozing on the mattress and Kaito has gone back to his room for the night, Maki presses the backs of her fingers against Kokichi’s flushed cheek.

“You’re not sweating enough,” she remarks disapprovingly, sitting back in her chair. Kokichi’s skin is dry and nearly blistering to the touch. “You’re far too dehydrated.”

Kokichi blinks slowly at her, propped up against the pillows. “It hardly matters at this point.”

Maki wants to argue, but there’s nothing she can say. Logically, he’s right, and if she appeals, she’s worried the stress building in her gut will spill out loudly and wake Shuichi. So she changes the subject. “What was that about earlier?”

A weary head tilt. “What was what about?” He’s not even making an effort to sound genuinely confused, Maki can tell. For him, playing dumb is just instinct.

“Whatever was going on when Kaito and I got back. Shuichi’s been quiet since then. Did you say something to him?”

Kokichi’s hands flutter restlessly against the bedspread. “Oh, that? That was nothing. Just two guys hanging out.”

“Holding hands?”

“Yeah. Don’t you hold hands with your platonic buddies?” At Maki’s unimpressed stare, Kokichi sighs, a weakened version of his usual long, dramatic exhale. “If you _must_ know, Shuichi was checking my _wound_.”

“Your _what_ —”

Kokichi extends his left arm toward her, holding his hand up for her inspection. It’s shaking so badly Maki unthinkingly grabs his wrist to steady him. “See, on my fourth finger.”

Maki peers down and, sure enough, even in the half-light of the lamp, she can make out a thin line curving down one side of his left ring finger. It isn’t long, but the remaining scab suggests it bled considerably.

“Since I got it from playing with Shuichi, he probably feels a little guilty, so he was just checking it.”

“Playing?” Maki echoes suspiciously.

“Yeah!” Kokichi chirps. “We were playing the knifey fingers game—”

Maki frowns because she doesn’t have to ask what Kokichi is talking about.

“—and of course it was an intense battle of wits, risking life and limb—really gets the blood pumping, doesn’t it?”

“If you say so.”

Kokichi’s face lights up with something reminiscent of his usual mischievous smile. “So the stakes were high; If I won, Shuichi’s life was forfeit, and vice versa. That’s how we settle things in my organization, you know. It’s very orderly.”

“Sounds harsh.” _And false_.

“Being a supreme leader means making some tough choices. Anyway, I was winning—I’m really good at that game—but Shuichi must have pulled some sort of trick because suddenly my hand slipped!” Kokichi cackles roughly. “It was no big deal, really. Just a little blood. Nothing either of us haven’t seen before, but—” his smile dips into something softer, his gaze distant. “You should have seen his face. He was so _worried_. Over a little cut. He insisted on cleaning it up, even though I tried—” he bites his lip. “He was really gentle. It was weird. People don’t...handle me gently, Maki.”

_I don’t let them_. It goes unsaid, but Maki hears it anyway. Every interaction is a game, every word a move on the board. For what purpose, Maki still isn’t sure, but she knows. Because she’s the same.

“He bandaged me up like a nervous candy-striper and that was it. He won the game. He won everything.” Kokichi brings his hands together over his stomach, tracing the line on his finger thoughtfully. “It’s really pathetic how happy it made me. It’s so dumb, you know? He probably gave it, like, two seconds of thought, total, and I’m over here still all worked up about it.”

“He was clearly thinking about it if he wanted to check on it,” Maki points out.

Kokichi shrugs. “That’s just the kind of guy he is. He’s too nice. Way too nice.”

Silence falls between them for a moment, patterned only by the slumbering rhythm of Shuichi’s breathing. Maki isn’t sure what to say. She wants to continue their discussion from earlier, about Kokichi’s theories, but her renewed suspicion regarding Monokuma’s involvement feels more urgent. What eventually comes out, however, is neither of those.

“Have you considered that he might feel the same way?”

The look Kokichi gives her is nearly comical in its surprise. “Maki, I never took you as the type to tease an invalid.”

“I’m being serious. We never really talked about it—”

“We don’t have to.”

“But just giving up—”

“There’s nothing we can do—”

“You don’t know that!”

“Keep your voice down!” Kokichi whispers harshly, eyes wide.

Casting a quick glance at Shuichi to confirm that he’s still asleep, Maki shifts forward to sit on the bed, leaning over Kokichi to hiss directly in his face: “I don’t think you’ve considered every possibility. Has the thought that he might feel the same ever even entered your head?”

Kokichi narrows his eyes. “That doesn’t matter.”

“This is your life we’re talking about. If the possibility exists—”

“Getting him involved at all means risking his death,” Kokichi snaps. “Even if he does feel the same, I can’t take the chance.”

“But—”

“Could you?” Kokichi’s eyes flicker between hers, searching her gaze, and Maki can see the desperation bleeding through his expression. “Could you risk it? If you were me? If it was Kaito?”

Maki’s head reels, attempting to envision it and recoiling at the thought. “That’s different.”

“It’s not,” Kokichi insists. “I see the way you look at him. Even if you don’t know. I didn’t know before I started coughing. If you had to choose between letting yourself die, or potentially dragging him down with you, could you do it?”

Maki stares at him, mouth open but no words on her tongue. Could she? Even if there was a chance he felt the same and they could both be saved, if it wasn’t 100%, could she take the risk? And Kaito is no Shuichi; it might be possible to probe him for information without giving up the game, but even then, Maki finds herself shying away from the prospect. There’s still a chance he could figure it out, then it would be over. If he didn’t feel the same, they’d both be doomed. No matter how she wraps her mind around it, the numbers don’t add up. The possibility of Kaito dying supersedes all other concerns, even her own life. “No,” she bites out finally. “No, I couldn’t.”

The look of understanding on Kokichi’s face is devastating. “Shuichi is too smart. If we even try to bring it up now, he’ll catch on immediately.”

Maki turns away from him, bracing her elbows on her knees and pressing her hands to her face. She feels like she’s shaking apart.

Kokichi shifts behind her. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet?”

“Shut up.”

“Are you worried you’ll be implicated? What’s the technical difference between _killing_ and _letting die_?”

“ _Shut up._ ” If the rules of the game were that pedantic, there would be no point. They’re all guilty of _letting die_ in some way or another.

“Regardless, it’s a little late to back out now, you know?”

“For fuck’s sake, do you ever—” a light touch on her back silences the heated words in her mouth. Haltingly, she turns her head enough to catch sight of Kokichi in her periphery. His face is angled away, the knuckles of one hand resting lightly on Maki’s back.

“It’s almost over,” Kokichi whispers.

Maki stares at him, realizing with a little jolt that this is the first time Kokichi has touched her of his own volition. She’s been touching him frequently throughout the process of nursing him, but he’s never reached out on his own. In fact, the only person she’s seen him initiate contact with is Shucihi. Everyone else gets verbal jabs and whiny arguments, unless they start it. It shouldn’t feel significant, but it does. She wonders if Shuichi has noticed.

The small points of contact feel like brands, even through her shirt.

It’s almost over.

Maki switches with Shuichi a few hours later. Kokichi’s coughing fits have gotten rarer, his body too frail to attempt to expel the petals as much as it used to. The only upside to that is that Maki doesn’t feel as nervous leaving Shuichi alone with him.

Kokichi smiles weakly when Shuichi takes Maki’s place, and the look Shuichi returns is so soft Maki has to turn away.

“Your pajamas are so ugly,” Kokichi rasps.

Maki rolls her eyes as she drops onto the mattress. Not even the edge of death can make Kokichi less rude.

Shuichi huffs out a laugh. “Well, they look almost exactly like my regular uniform, so I guess I know what you think of my clothes.”

“Exactly. It’s tragic. The pinstripes make you look two inches wide. At least my uniform is cute.”

“It’s all ragged on the edges.”

“That’s the point, Shuichi. Ever heard the term _distressed_? It’s high fashion.”

“Right.”

Maki rolls over and squeezes her eyes shut. Kokichi’s fatigued chuckle only makes her feel worse.

The next day is terrible. Kokichi’s condition can generously be described as _lingering_. He’s barely conscious and the flush is gone from his face, replaced by a sickly pallor that’s cold to the touch. Maki can feel every one of her nerves fraying to pieces as she tries to care for him while keeping tabs on Shuichi. She banishes Kaito completely with a vague excuse, unable to handle him on top of everything else.

Shuichi keeps giving her these wide-eyed looks that just scream panic. He’s worried Kokichi is dying. Maki’s worried she’ll let it slip that she knows he is. When she sees blood bubbling between Kokichi’s lips with every exhale, she quickly expels Shuichi as well, shouting at him to go to the warehouse for more towels and then locking the door firmly as soon as he’s gone.

For just a second, she rests her forehead against the closed door, jaw clenched.

“Why’d you do that?”

Maki jumps. She didn’t know Kokichi was awake. Hurrying to the bed, she sees Kokichi attempting to sit up and promptly pushes him back down. “Stop moving.”

Kokichi eyes her balefully, lips red, a trickle of blood escaping one corner. “Don’t think that’ll help much.”

Ignoring him, Maki dabs at the blood with a tissue.

“You know keeping him out will just make it worse.”

“You’re too sick for him to be here.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“ _You’re_ the one who’s so desperate to save him that you won’t even—” _try to save yourself._ Maki swallows hard, throws the tissue away with a quick, jittery movement.

Kokichi inhales laboriously. “It’s just some blood. He’s seen it before.”

“Shut up.”

“Maki, if he comes back and the door is locked—”

“I know!” Maki snaps. “I know! I just—” she breaks off on a frustrated growl, tangling her fingers in her pigtails and yanking as hard as she can. Her body feels like a livewire, every inch of skin exposed and snapping. “This is sick,” she spits. “All of this—it’s all on purpose—they knew somehow that this—”

“Be a waste if no one got any entertainment out of this,” Kokichi mumbles.

Maki glares down at the hair caught between her fingers. “When I get out of here, I’m going to hunt down every person responsible for this and personally slit their throats.”

“Oh wow—all of this viciousness for little old me? I’m flattered.”

“Not just you—” Maki cuts her eyes to Kokichi’s ashen face. “Everyone else too. Shuichi—”

“Yeah, he got a really raw deal, huh?”

While he might not be spitting blood or tearing out his own hair, the collapse of Shuichi Saihara is evident in the bags under his eyes, the restless twitching of his hands, the slump of his shoulders. Even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, he knows something is very wrong, and Maki bounces an anxious look toward the door. “He really cares about you,” she says bitterly.

Kokichi hums. “He’s sweet like that. Got a soft spot for lost causes.”

Maki almost asks again, almost begs Kokichi to come clean, to grab for that one last selfish chance at salvation, but she bites her tongue. It’s too late now. Kokichi’s breaths are numbered, beyond hope, and confessing now would just undo all of their effort so far.

The silence that drags out between them sits heavily in Maki’s tangled stomach.

Until familiar footsteps outside the door spur her into motion.

* * *

Maki can barely look at Shuichi or Kokichi all evening, opting to hole up on one of the armchairs and stare blankly at the wall. Legs drawn into her chest, she does her best to ignore the soft murmuring coming from the bed.

There’s no hiding the blood trickling out of Kokichi’s mouth at this point, but Shuichi didn’t panic or even pretend to be surprised when he saw it. He only took the rag from Maki’s hand and set about gently dabbing away the red staining Kokichi’s chin. There was no reproach when Shuichi met her eyes, only an unreadable well of some emotion that speared right through Maki’s chest and drove her to the other side of the room, leaving the nursing to Shuichi.

Now, Kokichi is propped up on Shuichi’s chest, while Shuichi quietly recounts some sort of story about his uncle. The only indication that Kokichi is conscious is the sluggish tapping of his fingers against the arm Shuichi has looped around his middle, eyes closed, breathing labored, but Shuichi doesn’t seem to mind, his voice low and steady, spoken right against Kokichi’s ear.

Maki almost feels like she’s intruding. She finds herself keeping her eyes away in an effort to give them some privacy.

The minutes tick by, patterned by warm whispering. But Shuichi is only human, and sometime after midnight, Maki rouses from her trance to find Shuichi’s head tipped back against the pillows, sunk in exhausted sleep, while Kokichi struggles to free himself from the cradle of Shuichi’s body without waking him.

“What are you doing?” she asks softly, swinging her legs to the floor.

“Maki, help—” Kokichi fights to sit up. “I need—”

Swiftly, Maki crosses to the bed and carefully wrangles Kokichi out of Shuichi’s lax grip, supporting the smaller boy around the waist as he pitches off the mattress. “What—”

“Please, Maki—” there’s a quiver in Kokichi’s voice that raises the hairs on the back of Maki’s neck. “Help me—outside—I don’t want to die in here—” he tosses a look back at Shuichi’s sleeping form, clinging to Maki’s arms. “I—I don’t want—” he cuts off, gasping.

Setting her jaw, Maki ducks down and scoops Kokichi up. It’s easy, barely requiring any effort. She knows he was light already, small of frame with almost no muscle, but this slightness is unnatural. Wrong. She can’t help but clutch him a little tighter.

Kokichi rests his head against her shoulder as she slips soundlessly out of the room and through the dark dorm building. No one is wandering around this late, but Maki remains alert, even after she steps out of the sliding doors into the cool night air.

Her feet carry her across the pavement. She doesn’t know where exactly Kokichi wants to go, figures it hardly matters. If it was her, she wouldn’t want the inside of her dorm to be the last thing she ever saw either.

Without thinking, she finds herself in the plaza leading to the trial ground, and Kokichi stirs.

“Wait—”

She halts, and, at his weak squirming, lets his legs down. He staggers, but when she reaches out to catch him, he holds up a shaking hand. On unsteady feet, he stumbles forward, face turned up to take in the looming structure of the trial building. Its rounded shape is a tombstone in silhouette, and Kokichi’s pale uniform splits the darkness of its massive shadow as he comes to a wavering stop.

“Maki.” She can barely hear him, but Kokichi angles his head back to regard her over his shoulder with a fragile, conspiratorial smile. “Thanks.”

When Kokichi crumples to his knees, Maki doesn’t move. His body lurches and strangled gasping, followed by the wet splatter of blood on stone reaches her ears, but she stays rooted to the spot, eyes glued to his trembling form.

Witnessing.

She’s watched people die. Over and over. Even after coming here. Death is not alien to her. But something about this sits like thorns under her skin, a stabbing wrongness that’s been growing ever since she first saw the petals in Kokichi’s palm. No—ever since Shuichi’s name passed Kokichi’s lips.

Her marks were out of her control. The other students were out of her control. But Kokichi and Shuichi and this secret she swore to keep…. She feared for Shuichi’s life, she believed Kokichi when he said the risk was too great, she told herself he was right, but now, watching Kokichi choke for breath on the ground in the shadow of the trial building with the moon bleaching everything it touches a ghastly white—

Her own lie curls icy fingers around her lungs.

She opens her mouth.

“Kokichi!”

Rapid footsteps pound the pavement behind her and she whirls around, spotting Shuichi’s dark figure racing off the stairs, followed by—Maki’s stomach flips—Kaito’s distinctive height and flying purple jacket.

“Kokichi—Maki!” Shuichi yells again, sprinting toward her, panic clear on his face in the moonlight.

“What’s going on?” Kaito shouts, hot on his heels.

Maki can only intercept them, catching Shuichi by the shoulders as he tries to duck past her.

“What are you doing?” Shuichi asks wildly, straining to look past her, at Kokichi. “When I woke up, you were gone—what—”

A weak, rattling cough cuts him off and his eyes widen. Kaito starts to move around them, brow furrowed.

“Stop!” Maki barks, and something about her tone must reach Kaito because he freezes, confused eyes flitting between her and Kokichi.

“What is going on, Maki Roll?” he asks, bewildered. “You’ve all been acting weird as hell, then Shuichi’s running through the dorms in the middle of the night like someone’s dying, and—”

“Maki, let me go—” Shuichi tries to twist out of her grasp, face stricken.

When she just tightens her grip, he grabs her wrists. “Why are you doing this?” he demands furiously, and Maki can see the desperation in his eyes, writ in the tense lines of his body. “You’ve been keeping something from me—and I trusted you! But this—Kokichi needs help, why are you—”

The cottony thud of something hitting the ground stalls his voice and resounds dully in Maki’s skull. Her spine goes rigid and she whips her head around to see Kokichi’s pallid frame completely collapsed on the pavement.

“Kokichi!” Using Maki’s flash of distraction, Shuichi pries himself loose, dodging around her and darting to Kokichi’s side.

“No—!” Maki lunges after him, but a thin whisper spears her in place—

“Shuichi?”

“Kokichi—” Shuichi is on his knees, hands fluttering over Kokichi’s body, not touching. “It’s—it’s okay—it’s gonna be okay—”

A dim laugh shivers out of Kokichi’s chest and he lets himself fall onto his back, blinking blearily up at Shuichi. “You—never let me get away with—anything—”

“What?” Shuichi’s hand lands on Kokichi’s cheek and he bows to hold Kokichi’s gaze directly. “What’s going on? Did someone do this to you?”

_You did this_ , Maki could say, pinned in place and watching with mounting dread. But no, that wouldn’t be right. Eyes catching on the gentle press of Shuichi’s fingers to Kokichi’s ashen skin, on the ardent intensity of Shuichi’s stare, on the panicked heaving of Shuichi’s chest, the truth is more than obvious.

_I did this._

“No—” Kokichi lets his face lean into Shuichi’s palm, eyes drooping closed, “—my fault—all my fault—”

“What is?” Shuichi almost shouts. When Kokichi doesn’t respond, he fits his other hand under Kokichi’s jaw and jostles him gently. “Kokichi, what is going on?”

Kokichi’s ribs rise with a shallow breath, and a stream of blood drips over his lips on the exhale, running down his cheeks to gather against Shuichi’s thumbs.

A sharp tap beside her jars Maki out of her horror and she flings an arm out, catching Kaito in the stomach as he tries to move forward. He grabs her wrist.

“Maki, what the hell—”

“If this isn’t a murder—” Shuichi throws over his shoulder, shifting to get his arms under Kokichi, “—then we need—we need to tell someone—Monokuma wouldn’t just let a student die outside of the game, right?” His voice pitches up manically as he pulls Kokichi’s limp frame against his chest. “We—we should call him—”

“No,” Maki grits out.

“Why not!” Shuichi demands, twisted around to glare up at Maki. “He’s dying, Maki! And you—you knew this whole time—”

“What?” Kaito tugs Maki into him. She doesn’t resist. “Maki, is that true?”

“I trusted you!” Shuichi continues, pressing Kokichi’s head against his shoulder, heedless of the blood that must be staining his shirt. “You promised me everything was fine!”

Maki holds his incensed stare resolutely, lips thin.

“What is going on?” Shuichi begs shrilly. “Are you really just going to stand there and watch him die?”

“Yes,” Maki says.

Shuichi’s mouth drops open, gaping soundlessly.

“Don’t—” a ragged gasp drags their attention down. More blood slips down Kokichi’s chin as he struggles to form the words: “—don’t be...mad at Maki…. I—I asked her—”

“Asked her what?” Shuichi combs Kokichi’s unruly hair out of his face fitfully. “What is going on, Kokichi? What did you ask her?”

Even from this distance, with the stark shadows draped around them all, Maki can make out the curl of Kokichi’s lips, his usual teasing grin reduced to a faint, lingering ghost. “—to save you.”

Shuichi goes rigid and Maki’s chest constricts.

“What—” But before Shuichi can finish his choked question, Kokichi’s head rolls to the side against his arm.

The number of times Maki has seen life leave a body is too high to remember, but for some reason, this time, the sight makes her blood run cold.

Shuichi stares blankly at the side of Kokichi’s face.

Kaito’s hands on Maki’s arm go slack and he stumbles back a step, muttering something under his breath, and Maki finds herself staggering forward.

“Stupid—” she hisses, throat tight, feet dragging on the pavement as she makes her way unsteadily to Kokichi’s other side, “—idiot—” her gaze travels up Kokichi’s still chest, his lax hands, one laying over his stomach and the other palm-up on the ground, his bloodstained collar, “—goddamn little—” her eyes land on Kokichi’s lifeless face and her knees buckle, crashing her heavily onto the stone “—bastard—” She sucks in a shuddering breath. “He loved you, you moron,” she whispers harshly.

It’s too late, but Maki has to say it anyway, the truth crawling out of her mouth with ironic urgency. If she was a little less of a coward, Kokichi wouldn’t have died believing his own lie. Or maybe, keeping quiet was the greatest kindness she could have offered him. Maybe it’s best that he didn’t know everything they did was pointless.

“He loved you,” she murmurs again, now that it can’t hurt him anymore.

“Maki—” Shuichi’s voice, small and fragile, pulls her focus up to meet his wide, lost stare. “Why?”

Silently, Maki reaches into her pocket. Shuichi follows her movements avidly, muscles locked, cradling Kokichi with white knuckles. Maki pulls out her hand and holds up her closed fist.

There’s an icy relief in her stomach as she uncurls her fingers to reveal two tiny red petals. Dried out, they flutter slightly in the barest hint of a breeze, and she tips her hand to let them drift onto Kokichi’s motionless chest. They land softly on the white fabric of his shirt, two papery little bloodstains.

Shuichi stares down at them.

“He—but—” Maki can see Shuichi’s wheels spinning, connecting dots with blinding speed and producing an answer that still doesn’t make sense. “But...I—”

“Ah, nuts!” A familiar, grating voice pierces between them, and Maki jerks around just in time to catch Monokuma strolling up to them, seemingly out of nowhere. His cubs are nowhere to be seen, but his round form alone is enough to raise Macki’s hackles. “Well, this has been a huge waste of time!”

“You—” Maki’s hand flies to her thigh, rage boiling over. The knife that she strapped under her skirt fits easily into her palm.

“Maki, no!” Kaito’s footsteps sound in her ears and then there’s a hand on her shoulder, a large form crouched beside her. “He’ll kill you—”

“Not if I kill him first.”

Monokuma waves a paw dismissively. “Sure, sure, do whatever you want. This whole demo is getting wiped anyway.”

That brings Maki up short. “What?”

The bear lets out a long, weary groan. “You guys are so boring!” He waves his paws at the huddle. “Slipping through a loophole! And after I worked so hard on this motive for you!”

Maki bristles, but Shuichi beats her to the conclusion: “You did this?”

“Of course I did this!” Monokuma sticks his paws on his hips. “Nothing happens here in the Ultimate Academy that isn’t carefully orchestrated by yours truly! But all of the motives planned for this season are so _typical_ , I wanted to try something new!”

“What the hell are you talking about, bear?” Kaito demands.

“Something new?” Maki echoes coldly.

Monokuma grins, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. “Just a little test run of something I’ve had in mind for a while now.”

“You gave him hanahaki.” Maki shakes off Kaito’s hand and draws her knife with a flash of steel. “On purpose.”

“No, no—” Monokuma’s smile widens. “I gave _someone_ hanahaki.”

“ _What._ ”

“It’s not like the disease was fake—” Monokuma shrugs, “—I just introduced the possibility that someone would develop it. I figured that by now _someone_ had to have fallen hopelessly in love with another doomed classmate, and Kokichi won the draw! Lucky him! Or should I say—” he covers his snout with one paw, eyes slitted with glee and pointed right at Maki, “—lucky _you_.”

Maki tightens her grip on the knife. “Me?”

“When I put in the parameters, there were only a few of you that met the conditions. Motives are usually pretty equal-opportunity, but I was curious to see how a narrower pool might change things.” Monokuma counts down on his claws: “Tenko Chabashira, Shuichi Saihara, Kokichi Ouma, and—” he angles one claw in Maki’s direction, “—Maki Harukawa.”

The ice in Maki’s stomach shoots up her spine.

“One lucky winner would be fatally struck by that most loathsome illness! Desperate, they would confess to their beloved, only to be rejected and condemned to a slow, agonizing death!” Monokuma spreads his arms theatrically, framed in moonlight against the stark outline of the trial building. “Despair at its most potent! Then their grieving friends would be left to puzzle out who the victim was in love with! Who so cruelly abandoned them to their fate? Ah!” He shivers. “Drama, betrayal, intrigue, unrequited love! This motive has it all!”

“What the—” Kaito sounds strangled, “—that’s sick!”

“That’s show business, baby!”

“Show business?” Maki repeats. Kokichi’s words from a few days ago ring in her ears: _Something’s going on here that we haven’t even considered_. “This is...this is all—”

“But that little shit—” Monokuma gestures violently at Kokichi, still gripped in Shuichi’s arms, and Maki sees Shuichi curl tighter around him, “—ruined everything! When I told him that his true love would be considered his murderer if they knew, I never thought he’d actually try to hide it! Agh!” Monokuma stomps his foot petulantly. “He’s been nothing but selfish up to this point! I can’t _believe_ he went all martyr on me!”

A serrated laugh bubbles out of Maki’s throat and Monokuma hones his unbalanced stare in on her. “You don’t know anything,” she spits. “This motive was fucked from the beginning—as soon as he was chosen.”

“Hmm?” The bear tilts his head quizzically. “Is that so?”

“Anyone else—” Shuichi starts softly, “—anyone else would confess. Anyone else would try to save themselves. He’s the only one—” he lists forward, until his brow is pressed to Kokichi’s shoulder, trembling, “—the only one who could keep it hidden,” he gasps, voice muffled.

“He’s a _liar_ ,” Maki snaps. “You fucked up.”

Monokuma regards them all for a beat, mismatched eyes scanning the small group, and Maki can hear her own pulse in her ears.

“I guess you’ve got a point,” Monokuma concedes airily. “But in the end—we all fucked up.”

“What do you mean?” Kaito pipes up defensively.

“I mean—” Monkuma smiles, again, smug and uncaring, “—if he’d been a little more honest, he could have been saved, right?”

Shuichi lets out a wounded noise and Maki clenches her jaw. “Shut up.”

“Aw, poor Kokichi,” Monokuma croons. “Dead by nothing but his own stubbornness!”

“Shut _up_.”

“All of that suffering for no reason!” Monokuma snickers. “And he probably thought he was being so cool! Saving Shuichi’s life! But it was all pointless!”

A snarl rips through Maki’s bared teeth and she lunges, but, again, strong hands drag her back down. “Let me go, Kaito!”

“Maki, calm down—”

“No!” She struggles against Kaito’s solid grip. “I’m going to rip his fucking face off!”

Monokuma laughs loudly, round belly shaking with mirth. “Go ahead! I didn’t get my execution, so we may as well end this experiment with a little violence before it gets reset!”

“Reset?” Shuichi rasps, raising his head. “What—”

“Yup!” Monokuma levels them with another gleeful smile. “A motive with no trial just won’t do!” Behind him, the trial building...shimmers.

Maki goes still, blinking hard to clear her eyes.

“We’ve lost more time to this little detour than I would have liked, but—” The building fuzzes out at the edges, almost pixelating, before snapping back into sharp relief against the night sky. “That’s art sometimes! It’s a process, you know?”

Beneath them, the ground shudders.

“What the—” Kaito swears, pulling Maki back against himself, and Maki can only let him, gaze fixed on the trial building as it once again glitches out of shape.

“I’ve definitely learned a lot,” Monokuma continues blithely, “and that’s the most important part of any experiment. But now—” He beams and the pavement around them creaks, the air buzzing against Maki’s skin. “It’s time to get back to our regularly scheduled programming.”

The trial building explodes outward in a shifting mass of glitching, veiny tendrils, arching over them to block the cold light of the moon, and the ground pitches violently.

Kaito crushes Maki protectively against him and as the darkness washes over them, she feels Shuichi’s hand land on her shoulder. Blindly, head spinning, she reaches out and claws her fingers into Kokichi’s shirt, turning her face into Kaito’s chest.

A dissonant hum invades her head, sparking pain in a crackling wave over every nerve in her body, until a hot, bright flash of agony at the base of her neck rips everything away and she’s reeling backwards into a freezing, electric nothingness—

* * *

Maki blinks.

“Uh—Maki? What are you doing?”

Kokichi’s voice pulls her attention down to see her own hand fisted in the white fabric of Kokichi’s sleeve. She cuts her eyes up, meeting Kokichi’s wide, curious purple stare.

“I’m—” What _is_ she doing? The room sways.

Something in Kokichi’s expression shifts, like a switch activating, and he quails suddenly. “Help! Murder girl is trying to kill me!” He struggles operatically against Maki’s grip, no real strength behind the movements. “I’m so scared!”

At Kokichi’s shouts, the other students in the gym turn to them, looking nervous, and Maki yanks her hand back like Kokichi burned her, glowering.

Instantly, Kokichi scampers away, darting behind—

“Kokichi, stop playing around,” Shuichi scolds, lifting one arm to address the boy tucking himself against his side.

“I’m not playing!” Kokichi protests. He buries his face childishly in Shuichi’s shirt and points emphatically in Maki’s direction. “She just grabbed me for no reason! She’s gonna do something to me!”

“You probably did something to annoy her.” Kaito’s voice announces his presence just before a large hand lands jovially on Maki’s shoulder. “I’m telling you guys, Maki’s cool! She’s not gonna do anything to anyone. Right?”

Maki glances up to find Kaito grinning crookedly down at her. The hand on her shoulder squeezes, rocking her slightly from side to side.

A bizarre thread of anxiety creeps up her throat. “Whatever,” she grits out, knocking Kaito’s arm away and stepping out of the circle of his body heat.

The others mutter amongst themselves, tossing Maki suspicious glances, but Maki doesn’t care. For some reason, she can’t look away from Kokichi. The sight of him babbling up at a flustered-looking Shuichi, one hand tugging insistently on the hem of Shuichi’s striped jacket, makes that weird anxiety tighten, screwing deeper into Maki’s bones.

Shuichi mumbles something she can’t hear, but whatever it is makes Kokichi break into peals of delighted laughter, both hands flying up to cover his mouth, and Maki’s eyes catch on the beige shape of a bandaid wrapped around the base of his left ring finger.

The room sways again.

But before Maki can find her footing, the familiar, cheery greeting is heralding the arrival of the monokubs and spearing right through her head, sending her thoughts scattering.

Giving herself a firm mental shake, Maki clenches her jaw and forces herself to focus on whatever the robotic bears are chattering about, something about a transfer student.

She doesn’t have time to waste worrying about Kokichi.

**Author's Note:**

> lmk what you think! unfortunately, i'm not very active in the Danganronpa fandom, so i most likely won't be writing any more for this pairing, though i do love them very much. that said, i hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading!
> 
> i don't interact with comments here on ao3 (though i treasure every one), but if you want to come see me on [tumblr](https://mistresseast.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/MistressEast), i'm always happy to answer questions or just chat!


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